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Full text of "The picturesque Mediterranean, its cities, shores, and islands, with illustrations on wood by J. MacWhirter, A.R.A., J. Fulleylove, R.I., J. O'Connor, R.I., W. Simpson, R.I., W.H.J. Boot, S.B.A., C. Wyllie, E.T. Compton and others"

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CALABRIA ... 81 






SARDINIA ... 145 




AI.MKKS ... - 1(il 

I, i:\vr Al.l.KN. 

TIIK TKSCAN (MAST ............ I"-' 


SIC1IA ........................ .- 

II. I). Tli.VlLL. 

XAl'LKS ................................... -M.S 


THK MillTHEUX ADRIATIC ... .................. 241 

T. (Jr. liONNEY. 


THE UIVIEKA ......... ..................... 265 





With Illustrations !>>/ JOH.\ Fl'LLEYLOVE, li.I. 

View from the Castle Hill, Nice -Limpia, Port of Nice Promenade du Midi, Nice Promenade 
des Anglais In the Jardin Public, Nice Cliapelle Ilusse On the Road to Villefranche View 
from the Road to Fort Montalban, Nice Place Massena Villefranche, from the Sea ... 1 17 


With Illtistraliiim Jnj WILLIAM RIHPKON, li.I. 

Mount Ida and the Gulf of Adramyti Mount Ida Besika Bay Tenedos The Plains of Troy, 
from Erenkeui Castle of Europe, Dardanelles Abydos Gallipoli The Dardanelles: looking 
towards Constantinople ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 18 32 


With Illustrations l,i, ('. W. WYLLIE. 

Malta and Comino, from Gozo Valletta, on the side of the Quarantine Harbour The Quays 
of the Grand Harbour at Valletta Valletta, from the Grand Harbour Bay of St. Paul, 
where St. Paul was wrecked- -General View of Valletta : Entrance to the Grand Harbour 
P. and O. Steamer entering the Quarantine Harbour -Men-of-War in the Grand Harbour of 
Valletta The Top of the Grand Harbour, Malta Isola Point, Malta Church of St. John, 
Strada Reale, Valletta Citta Vecchia, or Notabile : The Old Capital of Malta The Road from 
Valletta to Citta Vecchia 3354 

With Ilhistrations by II". If. J. J1UUT. 

Piazza Maggiore, Ravenna Church of St. Apollinare Nuova Street in Ravenna Mausoleum 
of Galla Placidia Tomb of Dante The Baptistry, Ravenna Ravenna: (1) Approach to the 
City ; (2) Cathedral and Baptistry ; (3) Palace of Theodoric Comacchio Sketches at Comacchio 
In the Pine Forest, Ravenna -Arch of Augustus, Rimini Ancona The Harbour, Brindisi 
Casa Virgili, Brindisi Column of the Appian Way, Brindisi Sunset, Ravenna... 55 80 


With Jllustration* In/ ('. II'. WYLLIE. 

Brancaleone Shrine near Catanzaro - -Straits of Mossina, with Etna in tho distance Gerace 
Roccella Tonica, from the Beach : Upper Calabria Amendolea : Upper Calabria A Street 
Fountain, Catanzaro Catanzaro Marina On the Coast of Calabria Catanzaro Policoro, 
Basilicata The Castle, Cotrone Strada Garibaldi, Taranto Taranto Rocca Imperiale ... 81 104 


With Tlli/strnt imis />// R T. COMPTOX. 

Washing-place outside the Walls, Almeria Coast Road near Adra, Andalusia Malaga, from 
the Alcazaba Malaga, from the Sugar Fields La Concepcion, Malaga Street beneath the 
Alcazar, Malaga- Almeria, from the East Malaga Harbour Near Cabo Sagratiti : Sierra 
Nevada in distance -Waggons with Esparto Grass at Almeria The Cathedral, Almeria Malaga, 
looking West -A bit of Almeria : Capo di Gata in the distance Packing Lemons at Pizzaria, 
near Malaga . '... 105122 



Wit/, IZiMfMtfaMty r. w. PAOES 

('..rt'ii Tin- "'ate .it' Corfu Cape Ducnto The Citadel, Corfu Vathy, Ithaca Samos Santa 
Mama Ai\'ostoli. I'ephalonia \Viii(]]iiills. Ithara /ante On the Hill l>yon(l Xante Seashore, 
Xante On the Island ..f Xante The Island of Ccrigo ... ... 1 1 1 :! 144 


H'itli llliixinifiiHis lj II". II. (,'M.1'I\. 

Tunny Fishing: The Slaughter - -Cagliuri The Roman Amphitheatre, Cagliari Nuraghe at Santa 
r.arbara. Maeoiner Kntranoe to the Nuraglie of Santa Barbara Grotto of the Viper, by Cagliari 
Tunny Fishing: The Look-out ...... ......... 145160 


With lllHsirfilhas In/ EDGAR BARCLAY. 

l!ay i if Algiers, from Mustapha Moorish Villa, Mustaplm Harbour of Algiers Moorish Villa, 

\\ith Bay of Algiers Algiers Woman Praying to a Sacred Tree ... ... ... ... 161 171 


\\,ll, lustrations by JOff.Y FfLLEYLOYE, R.I. 

Tlie Coast near Viareggio, where Shelley's body was found Casa Magni Between Leghorn and 
Grosseto Avenza Elba, from the Mainland Leghorn Harbour Porto Ferrajo, from Napoleon's 
House Porto Ferrajo, Elba Napoleon's House Civita Vecchia Near the Mouth of the Arno 
Orbitello and San Stefano The First llridge on the Arno Massa, near Carrara Main 
Street of Piombino... ... ... 172193 



With llliistrntnnix l,i, JO /f.Y M. I fll -U1RTKR, A.R.A. 

Mountains of Calabria, from Sicily Taormina Church of Sant' Agostino, Taonnina Entrance 
to Mola Rocks of the Cyclops Catania The Greek Theatre, Syracuse Girgenti View in 
Girgenti Mount Etna, and Greek Theatre, Taormina Temples of Concord and Juno Lucina, 
Girgenti Palermo Harbour On the Coast of Palermo, looking towards Termini _ Cape 
Solunta ..................... 194217 


With Illuxtmti,,,!* Inj ALFRED EAST, R.I. 

Torre dell' Annunziata Street in Amalti Naples, from Posilipo Naples : The Public Gardens 
The Hermitage, Capri Capri, from Naples Capri Anacapri Vietri Salerno Castellamare 
Procida and Ischia Sorrento Vico ... ... ... ... ... ... 218 _ 240 


With Illuetrations by JOHX I'TlLKYr.OVE, R.I. 

Riva del Schiavoni Tlie Piazzetta, Venice Venice, looking towards Lido, from the Campanile _ 
Mola San Carlo, Trieste Duomo, Murano Duomo and Sta. Fosca, Torcello _ Chioggia, looking 
towards the Adriatic Villa Miramar, neai' Trieste Bay of Parenzo Arco di Riccardo, Trieste 

C.,|,,, (1 |sti-ia Kovigno The Amphitheatre, Pola Pirano, from the Sea ...... 241264 


\\",tli llhislnilimisl,,, \\'/I.LIA.V Il.iTHERKLL, It.l. 

.,.,: The 01,1 Town-AntilM-s Fisher Folk, RivieraA Forest Road near Antibes The EsWrel 
Uoonteim in Oannei lie Ste. Margu.-rite, Cannes Bordighera Mentone Monte Carlo, from 
Boqoebnme Eloquebrnne, from the Coast Ventimiglia San Remo-Savona, from Abbissola 
~ Allt>M " ............... 265280 



View from the Caslle Hill, Nice. 


T17HO loves not Nice, knows it not. Who knows it, loves it. I admit it is windy, 
dusty, gusty. I allow it is meretricious, fashionable, vulgar. I grant its 
Carnival is a noisy orgy, its Promenade a meeting place for all the wealthiest idlers 
of Europe or America, and its clubs more desperate than Monte Carlo itself in their 
excessive devotion to games of hazard. And yet, with all its faults, I love it still. 
Yes, deliberately love it ; for nothing that man has done or may ever do to mar its 
native beauty can possibly deface that beauty itself as God made it. Nay, more, 
just because it is Nice, our Nice, we can readily pardon it these obvious faults and 
minor blemishes. The Queen of the Riviera, with all her coquettish little airs and 
graces, pleases none the less, like some proud and haughty girl in court costume, 
partly by reason of that very finery of silks and feathers which we half-heartedly 
deprecate. If she were not herself, she would be other than she is. Nice is Nice, 
and that is enough for us. 

Was ever town more graciously set, indeed, in more gracious surroundings ? 

Was ever pearl girt round with purer emeralds ? On every side a vast semicircle 

.. of mountains hems it in, among which the bald and naked summit of the Mont 

Can d'Aspremont towers highest and most conspicuous above its darkling compeers. 

In front the blue Mediterranean, that treacherous Mediterranean all guile and 



Ioveline88, smiles with myriad dimple to the clear-cut horizon. Eastward, the rocky 
promontories of the Boron and the Cap Ferrat jut boldly out into the sea with 
their fringe of white dashing breakers. Westward, the longer and lower spit of 
,1,,. ,,;, O f Antihes hounds the distant view, with the famous pilgrimage chapel 
of Notre Dame de la Garoupe just dimly visible on its highest knoll against the 
serrated ridge of the glorious Esterel in the background. In the midst of all 
nestles. Nice itself, the central gem in that coronet of mountains. There are warmer 
:ml more sheltered nooks on the Eiviera, I will allow: there can be none more 
beautiful. Mentone may surpass it in the charm of its mountain paths and 
innumerable excursions; Cannes in the rich variety of its nearer walks and drives; 

Limpia, Port of Nice. 

but for mingled glories of land and sea, art and nature, antiquity and novelty, 
picturesqueness and magnificence, Nice still stands without a single rival on all that 
enchanted coast that stretches its long array of cities and bays between Marseilles 
and Genoa. There are those, I know, who run down Nice as commonplace and 
vulgarised. But then, they can never have strayed one inch, I feel sure, from the 
palm-shaded trottoir of the Promenade des Anglais. If you want Italian medievalism, 
go to the Old Town ; if you want quaint marine life, go to the good Greek port 
of Limpia ; if you want a grand view of sea and land and snow mountains in the 
distance, go to the Castle Hill; if you want the most magnificent panorama in the 
whole of Europe, go to the summit of the Corniche Koad. No, no; these brawlers 
disturb our pure worship. We have only one Nice, let us make the most of it. 

It is so easy to acquire a character for superiority by affecting to criticise what 
others admire. It is so easy to pronounce! a place vulgar and uninteresting by 

NICE. 3 

taking care to see only the most vulgar and uninteresting parts of it. But the old 
Rivieran who knows his Nice well, and loves it dearly, is troubled rather by the 
opposite difficulty. Where there is so much to look at and so much to describe, 
where to begin ? what to omit ? how much to glide over ? how much to insist upon ? 
Language fails him to give a conception of this complex and polychromatic city in a 
few short pages to anyone who knows it by name alone as the cosmopolitan winter 
capital of fashionable seekers after health and pleasure. It is that, indeed, but it is 
so much more that one can never tell it. 

For there are at least three distinct Nices, Greek, Italian, French; each of 

Promenade du Midi, Nice. 

them beautiful in its own way, and each of them interesting for its own special 
features. To the extreme east, huddled in between the Mont Boron and the Castle 
Hill, lies the seafaring Greek town, the most primitive and original Nice of all ; the 
home of the fisher-folk and the petty coasting sailors ; the Nicaea of the old 
undaunted Phocsean colonists ; the Ni/za di Mare of modern Italians ; the mediaeval 
city; the birthplace of Garibaldi. Divided from this earliest Nice by the scarped 
rock on whose summit stood the chateau of the Middle Ages, the eighteenth century 
Italian town (the Old Town as tourists nowadays usually call it, the central town of 
the three) occupies the space between the Castle Hill and the half dry bed of the 
Paillon torrent. Finally, west of the Paillon, again, the modern fashionable pleasure 
resort extends its long line of villas, hotels, and palaces in front of the sea to the 
little stream of the Magnan on the road to Cannes, and stretches back in endless 
boulevards and avenues and gardens to the smiling heights of Cimiez and Carabacel. 


Kverv one of these throe towns, "in three different ages born," lias its own special 
history and its own points of interest. Every one of them teems with natural beauty, 
with picturesque elements, and with varieties of life, hard indeed to discover elsewhere. 
The usual guide-book way to attack Nice is, of course, the topsy-turvey one, 
to begin at the Haussmannised white facades of the Promenade des Anglais and 
work backwards gradually through the Old Town to the Port of Limpia and the 
original nucleus that surrounds its quays. I will venture, however, to disregard this 
time-honoured but grossly unhistorical practice, and allow the reader and myself, 
for once in our lives, to " begin at the beginning." The Port of Limpia, then, is, 
of course, the natural starting point and prime original of the very oldest Nice. 
Hither, in the fifth century before the Christian era, the bold Phocaean settlers of 
Marseilles sent out a little colony, which landed in the tiny land-locked harbour and 
called the spot Nicaea (that is to say, the town of victory) in gratitude for their 
success against its rude Ligurian owners. For twenty-two centuries it has retained 
that name almost unchanged, now perhaps the only memento still remaining of 
its Greek origin. During its flourishing days as a Hellenic city Nicaea ranked 
among the chief commercial entrepots of the Ligurian coast ; but when " the 
Province" fell at last into the hands of the Eomans, and the dictator Caesar favoured 
rather the pretensions of Cemenelum or Cimiez on the hill-top in the rear, the town 
that clustered round the harbour of Limpia became for a time merely the port of 
its more successful inland rival. Cimiez still possesses its fine ruined Roman 
amphitheatre and baths, besides relics of temples and some other remains of the 
imperial period; but the " Quartier du Port," the ancient town of Nice itself, is 
almost destitute of any architectural signs of its antique greatness. 

Nevertheless, the quaint little seafaring village that clusters round the harbour, 
entirely cut off as it is by the ramping crags of the Castle Hill from its later 
representative, the Italianised Nice of the last century, may fairly claim to be the 
true Nice of history, the only spot that bore that name till the days of the 
Bourbons. Its annals are far too long and far too eventful to be narrated here in 
full. Goths, Burgundians, Lombards, and Franks disputed for it in turn, as the 
border fortress between Gaul and Italy ; and that familiar round white bastion on 
the eastern face of the Castle Hill, now known to visitors as the Tour Bellanda, 
and included (such is fate !) as a modern belvedere in the grounds of the comfortable 
Pension Suisse, was originally erected in the fifth century after Christ to protect 
the town from the attacks of these insatiable invaders. But Nice had its consolations, 
too, in these evil days, for when the Lombards at last reduced the hill fortress of 
, the Roman town, its survivors took refuge from their conquerors in the city 
]> y tll( ' I""''- Which thus became once more, by the fall of its rival, unquestioned 
mistress of the surrounding littoral. 

NICE. 5 

The after story of our Nice is confused and confusing. Now a vassal of the 
Frankish kings ; now again a member of the Genoese league ; now engaged in a 
desperate conflict with the piratical Saracens ; and now constituted into a little 
independent republic on the Italian model ; Nizza struggled on against an adverse 
fate as a fighting-ground of the races, till it fell finally into the hands of the Counts 
of Savoy, to whom it owes whatever little still remains of the mediaeval castle. 
Continually changing hands between France and the kingdom of Sardinia in later 
days, it was ultimately made over to Napoleon III. by the Treaty of Villafranca, 
and is now completely and entirely Gallicised. The native dialect, however, remains 
even to the present day an intermediate form between Provencal and Italian, and is 
freely spoken (with more force than elegance) in the Old Town and around the 
enlarged modern basins of the Port of Limpia. Indeed, for frankness of expression 
and perfect absence of any false delicacy, the ladies of the real old Greek Nice 
surpass even their London compeers at Billingsgate. 

One of the most beautiful and unique features of Nice at the present day is 
the Castle Hill, a mass of solid rearing rock, not unlike its namesake at Edinburgh 
in position, intervening between the Port and the eighteenth century town, to which 
latter I will in future allude as the Italian city. It is a wonderful place, that 
Castle Hill wonderful alike by nature, art, and history, and I fear I must also add 
at the same time " uglification." In earlier days it bore on its summit or slopes the 
chateau fort of the Counts of Provence, with the old cathedral and archbishop's 
palace (now wholly destroyed), and the famous deep well, long ranked among the 
wonders of the world in the way of engineering, like our own at Carisbrooke. But 
military necessity knows no law ; the cathedral gave place in the fifteenth century 
to the bastions of the Duke of Savoy's new-fangled castle ; the castle itself in turn 
was mainly battered down in 1706 by the Duke of Berwick ; and of all its antiquities 
none now remain save the Tour Bellanda, in its degraded condition of belvedere, 
and the scanty ground-plan of the mediaeval buildings. 

Nevertheless, the Castle Hill is still one of the loveliest and greenest spots in 
Nice. A good carriage road ascends it to the top by leafy gradients, and leads 
to an open platform on the summit, now converted into charming gardens, rich 
with palms and aloes and cactuses and bright southern flowers. On one side, alas ! 
a painfully artificial cataract, fed from the overflow of the waterworks, falls in stiff 
cascades among hand-built rockwork ; but even that impertinent addition to the 
handicraft of nature can hardly offend the visitor for long among such glorious 
surroundings. For the view from the summit is one of the grandest in all France. 
The eye ranges right and left over a mingled panorama of sea and mountains, 
scarcely to be equalled anywhere round the lovely Mediterranean, save on the 
Ligurian coast and the neighbourhood of Sorrento. Southward lies the blue expanse 



of water itself, bounded only in very clear and cloudless weather by the distant 
peaks of Corsica on the doubtful liori/on. Westward, the coast-line includes the 
promontory of Antilles, busking low on the sea, the lies Lerins near Cannes, the 
mouth of the Var, and the dim-jagged ridge of the purple Esterel. Eastward, the 
bluff headland of the Mont Boron, grim and brown, blocks the view towards Italy. 
Close below the spectator's feet the three distinct towns of Nice gather round the 
Port and the two banks of the Paillon, spreading their garden suburbs, draped in 
roses and lemon groves, high up the spurs of the neighbouring mountains. But 
northward a tumultuous sea of Alps rises billow-like to the sky, the nearer peaks 
frowning bare and rocky, while the more distant domes gleam white with virgin 
snow. It is a sight, once seen, never to be forgotten. One glances around entranced, 
and murmurs to oneself slowly, " It is good to be here." Below, the carriages are 
rolling like black specks along the crowded Promenade, and the band is playing 
gaily in the Public Garden ; but . up there you look across to the eternal bills, and 
feel yourself face to face for one moment with the Eternities behind them. 

One may descend from the summit either by the ancient cemetery or by the 
Place Garibaldi, through bosky gardens of date-palm, fan-palm, and agave. Cool 
winding alleys now replace the demolished ramparts, and lovely views open out on 
every side as we proceed over the immediate foreground. 

At the foot of the Castle Hill, a modern road, hewn ill the solid rock round the 
base of the seaward escarpment, connects the Greek with the Italian town. The 

J'romenailc ilt-i . 


/ the Janiin Public, Nice. 

angle where it turns the corner, well shown in Mr. Fulleylove's charming sketch of 
the Promenade du Midi, bears on native lips the quaint Provengal or rather Ni?ois 
name of Eaiiba Capeu or Eob-hat Point, from the common occurrence of sudden 
gusts of wind, which remove the unsuspecting Parisian headgear with effective 
rapidity, to the great joy of the observant gamins. Indeed, windiness is altogether 
the weak point of Nice, viewed as a health-resort ; the town lies exposed in the open 
valley of the Paillon, down whose baking bed the mistral, that scourge of Provence, 
sweeps with violent force from the cold mountain-tops in the rear ; and so it cannot 
for a moment compete in point of climate with Cannes, Monte Carlo, Mentone, or 
San Remo, backed up close behind by their guardian barrier of sheltering hills. But 
not even the mistral can make those who love Nice love her one atom the less. 
Her virtues are so many that a little wholesome bluster once in a while may surely 
be forgiven her. And yet the dust does certainly rise in clouds at times from the 
Promenade des Anglais. 

The Italian city, which succeeds next in order, is picturesque and old-fashioned, 
but is being daily transformed and Gallicised out of all knowledge by its modern 
French masters. It dates back mainly to the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, 
when the population became too dense for the narrow limits of the small Greek 
town, and began to overflow, behind the Castle Hill, on to the eastern banks of 
the Paillon torrent. The sea-front in this quarter, now known as the Promenade du 
Midi, has been modernised into a mere eastward prolongation of the Promenade des 
Anglais, of which "more anon;" but the remainder of the little triangular space 


between tin- Castle Hill and the river-bed still consists of fanny narrow Italian lanes, 
dark, dense, an. I dingy, from whose midst rises the odd and tile-covered dome of 
the cathedral of St. Separate. That was the whole of Nice as it lived and moved 
till the beginning of this century; the real Nice of to-day, the Nice of the tourist, 
the invalid, and the fashionable world, the Nice that we all visit or talk about, is 
a purely modern accretion of some half-dozen decades. 

This wonderful modern town, with its stately sea-front, its noble quays, its dainty 
white villas, its magnificent hotels, and its brand-new Casino, owes its existence entirely 
to the vogue which the coast has acquired in our own times as a health-resort 
for consumptives. As long ago as Smollett's time, the author of " Koderiek 
Random" remarks complacently that an acquaintance, "understanding I intended to 
winter in the South of France, strongly recommended the climate of Nice in 
Provence, which indeed I had often heard extolled," as well he might have done. 
But in those days visitors had to live in the narrow and dirty streets of the Italian 
town, whose picturesqueuess itself can hardly atone for their unwholesome air and 
their unsavoury odours. It was not till the hard winters of 1822-23-24 that a few 
kind-hearted English residents, anxious to find work for the starving poor, began the 
construction of a sea-road beyond the Paillon, which still bears the name of the 
Promenade des Anglais. Nice may well commemorate their deed to this day, for to 
them she owes, as a watering-place, her very existence. ' 

The western suburb, thus pushed beyond the bed of the boundary torrent, has 
gradually grown in wealth and prosperity till it now represents the actual living Nice 
of the tourist and the winter resident. But how to describe that gay and beautiful 
city ; that vast agglomeration of villas, pensions, hotels, and clubs ; that endless array 
of sun-worshippers gathered together to this temple of the sun from all the four 
quarters of the habitable globe ? The sea-front consists of the Promenade des Anglais 
itself, which stretches in an unbroken line of white and glittering houses, most of 
them tasteless, but all splendid and all opulent, from the old bank of the Paillon 
to its sister torrent, the Magnan, some two miles away. On one side the villas front 
the shore with their fantastic fagades ; on the other side a walk, overshadowed with 
date-palms and purple-flowering judas-trees, lines the steep shingle beach of the 
tideless sea. Imagine the King's Eoad at Brighton transferred to the sunny south, 
and lined with avenues of sub-tropical foliage, only in place of a continuous row of 
shops let its sea-front consist entirely of villas and palaces standing each apart in 
its garden-close of orange trees and oleanders, and you get a faint idea of the 
Promenade at Nice as it flaunts to-day in all its glory. 

There is one marked peculiarity of the Promenade des Anglais, however, which 
at once distinguishes it from any similar group of private houses we have anywhere 
in England. With us the British love of privacy, which has, of course, its good 



points, but has also, we should never forget, its compensating disadvantages, leads 
almost every owner of beautiful grounds or gardens to enclose them with a high 
fence or with the hideous monstrosity known to suburban Londoners as "park 
paling." This plan, while it ensures complete seclusion for the fortunate few within, 
shuts out the deserving many outside from all participation in the beauty of the 
grounds or the natural scenery. On the Promenade des Anglais, on the contrary, 
a certain generous spirit of emula- 
tion in contributing to the public 
enjoyment and the general effec- 
tiveness of the scene as a whole 
has prompted the owners of the 
villas along the sea-front to en- 
close their gardens only with low 
ornamental balustrades or with a 
slight and unobtrusive iron fence, 
so that the passers-by can see 
freely into every one of them, 
and feast their eyes on the beau- 
tiful shrubs and flowers. The 
houses and grounds thus form a 
long line of delightful though 
undoubtedly garish and ornate 
decorations, in full face of the 
sea. The same plan has been 
adopted in the noble residential 
street known as Euclid Avenue at 
Cleveland, Ohio, and in many other American towns. It is to be regretted that 
English tastes and habits do not oftener thus permit our wealthier classes to 
contribute, at no expense or trouble to themselves, to the general pleasure of less 
fortunate humanity. 

The Promenade is, of course, during the season the focus and centre of 
fashionable life at Nice. Here carriages roll, and amazons ride, and flaneurs lounge 
in the warm sunshine during the livelong afternoon. In front are the baths, 
bathing being practicable at Nice from the beginning of March ; behind are the 
endless hotels and clubs of this city of strangers. For the English are not alone on 
the Promenade des Anglais ; the American tongue is heard there quite as often as 
the British dialect, while Germans, Eussians, Poles, and Austrians cluster thick upon 
the shady seats beneath the planes and carob-trees. During the Carnival especially 
Nice resolves itself into one long orgy of frivolous amusement. Battles of flowers, 


Chapelle Russe. 


battles of confetti, open-air masquerades, and universal torn-foolery pervade the 
place. Everybody vies with everybody else in making himself ridiculous ; and even 
the staid Briton, released from the restraints of home or the City, abandons himself 
contentedly for a week at a time to a sort of prolonged and glorified sunny 
southern Derby Day. Mr. Bultitude disguises himself as a French clown ; Mr. 
Dombey, in domino, flings roses at his friends on the seats of the tribune. 
Everywhere is laughter, noise, bustle, and turmoil ; everywhere the manifold forms of 
antique saturnalian freedom, decked out with gay flowers or travestied in quaint 
clothing, but imported most incongruously for a week in the year into the midst 
of our modern work-a-day nineteenth-century Europe. 

Only a few winters ago fashionable Nice consisted almost entirely of the 
Promenade des Anglais, with a few slight tags and appendages in either direction. 
At its eastern end stood (and still stands) the Jardin Public, that paradise of children 
and of be-ribboned French nursemaids, where the band discourses lively music every 
afternoon at four, and all the world sits round on two-sou chairs to let all the rest 
of the world see for itself it is still in evidence. These, and the stately quays along 
the Paillon bank, lined with shops where female human nature can buy all the 
tastiest and most expensive gewgaws in Europe, constituted the real Nice of the 
early eighties. But with the rapid growth of that general taste for more sumptuous 
architecture which marks our age, the Phocaean city woke up a few years since with 
electric energy to find itself in danger of being left behind by its younger competitors. 
So the Nicois conscript fathers put their wise heads together, in conclave assembled, 
and resolved on a general transmogrification of the centre of their town. By 
continuously bridging and vaulting across the almost dry bed of the Paillon torrent 
they obtained a broad and central site for a new large garden, which now forms 
the natural focus of the transformed city. On the upper end of this important site 
they erected a large and handsome casino in the gorgeous style of the Third 
Republic, all glorious without and within, as the modern Frenchman understands 
such glory, and provided with a theatre, a winter garden, restaurants, cafes, 
ball-rooms, petits chevaux, and all the other most pressing requirements of an 
advanced civilisation. But in doing this they sacrificed by the way the beautiful 
view towards the mountains behind, which can now only be obtained from the Square 
Massena or the Pont Vieux farther up the river. Most visitors to Nice, however, 
care little for views, and a great deal for the fitful and fearsome joys embodied to 
their minds in the outward and visible form of a casino. 

This wholesale bridging over of the lower end of the Paillon has united the 
French and Italian towns and abolished the well-marked boundary line which once 
cut them off so conspicuously from one another. The inevitable result has been that 
the Italian town too has undergone a considerable modernisation along the sea-front, 

NICE. 11 

so that the Promenade des Anglais and the Promenade du Midi now practically 
merge into one continuous parade, and are lined along all their length with the same 
clipped palm-trees and the same magnificent white palatial buildings. When the old 
theatre in the Italian town was burnt down in the famous and fatal conflagration 
some years since, the municipality erected a new one on the same site in the most 
approved style of Parisian luxury. A little behind lie the Prefecture and the beautiful 
flower market, which no visitor to Nice should ever miss ; for Nice is above all 
things, even more than Florence, a city of flowers. The sheltered quarter of the 
Ponchettes, lying close under the lee of the Castle Hill, has become of late, owing 
to these changes, a favourite resort for invalids, who find here protection from the 
cutting winds which sweep with full force down the bare and open valley of the 
Paillon over the French town. 

I am loth to quit that beloved sea-front, on the whole the most charming marine 
parade in Europe, with the Villefranche point and the pseudo-Gothic, pseudo-Oriental 
monstrosity of Smith's Folly on one side and the delicious bay towards Antibes on 
the other. But there are yet various aspects of Nice which remain to be described : 
the interior is almost as lovely in its way as the coast that fringes it. For this 
inner Nice, the Place Massena, called (like the Place Garibaldi) after another 
distinguished native, forms the starting point and centre. Here the trams from all 
quarters run together at last ; hence the principal roads radiate in all directions. 
The Place Massena is the centre of business, as the Jardin Public and the Casino 
are the centres of pleasure. Also (verbum sap.} it contains an excellent patisserie, 
where you can enjoy an ice or a little French pastry with less permanent harm to 
your constitution and morals than anywhere in Europe. Moreover, it forms the 
approach to the Avenue de la Gare, which divides with the Quays the honour of 
being the best shopping street in the most fashionable watering-place of the 
Mediterranean. If these delights thy soul may move, why, the Place Massena is 
the exact spot to find them in. 

Other great boulevards, like the Boulevard Victor Hugo and the Boulevard 
Dubouchage, have been opened out of late years to let the surplus wealth that 
flows into Nice in one constant stream find room to build upon. Chateaux and 
gardens are springing up merrily on every side ; the slopes of the hills gleam gay 
with villas ; Cimiez and Carabacel, once separate villages, have now been united by 
continuous dwellings to the main town ; and before long the city where Garibaldi 
was bom and where Gambetta lies buried will swallow up in itself the entire space 
of the valley, and its border* spurs from mountain to mountain. The suburbs, 
indeed, are almost more lovely in their way than the town itself; and as one 
wanders at will among the olive-clad hills to westward, looking down upon the green 
lemon -groves that encircle the villas, and the wealth of roses that drape their 


sides, one cannot wonder that Joseph de Maistre, another Nicois of distinction, in 
the long dark evenings he spent at St. Petersburg, should time and again have 
recalled with a sigh " ce doux vallon de Magnan." Nor have the Russians 
themselves failed to appreciate the advantages of the change, for they flock by 
thousands to the Orthodox Quarter on the heights of Saint Philippe, which rings 
round the Greek chapel erected in memory of the Czarewitch Nicholas 
Alexandrowitch, who died at Nice in 1865. 

After all, however, to the lover of the picturesque Nice town itself is but the 
threshold and starting point for that lovely country which spreads on all sides its 

On the Road to Villefranche. 

endless objects of interest -and scenic beauty from Antibes to Mentone. The 
excursions to be made from it in every direction are simply endless. Close by lie 
the monastery and amphitheatre of Cimiez ; the Italianesque cloisters and campanile 
of St. Pons; the conspicuous observatory on the Mont Gros, with its grand Alpine 
views ; the hillside promenades of Le Bay and Les Fontaines. Farther afield the 
carriage-road up the Paillon valley leads direct to St. Andre through a romantic 
limestone gorge, which terminates at last in a grotto and natural bridge, overhung 
by the mouldering remains of a most southern chateau. A little higher up, the 
steep mountain track takes one on to Falicon, perched "like an eagle's nest" on 
its panoramic hill-top, one of the most famous points of view among the Maritime 
Alps. The boundary hills of the Magnan, covered in spring with the purple flowers 
of the wild gladiolus ; the vine-clad heights of Le Bellet, looking down on the abrupt 
and rock-girt basin of the Var ; the Valley of Hepaticas, carpeted in March with 
innumerable spring blossoms ; the longer drive to Contes in the very heart of the 



mountains : all alike are lovely, and all alike tempt one to linger in their precincts 
among the shadow of the cypress trees or under the cool grottos green and 
lush with spreading fronds of wild maidenhair. 

Among so many delicious excursions it were invidious to single out any for 
special praise ; yet there can he little doubt that the most popular, at least with the 
general throng of tourists, is the magnificent coast-road by Villefranche (or Villafranca) 
to Monte Carlo and Monaco. This particular part of the coast, between Nice and 
Mentone, is the one where the main range of the Maritime Alps, abutting at last 
on the sea, tumbles over sheer with a precipitous descent from four thousand feet 
high to the level of the Mediterranean. Formerly, the barrier ridge could only be 
surmounted by the steep but glorious Corniche route ; of late years, however, the 
French engineers, most famous of road-makers, have hewn an admirable carriage- 
drive out of the naked rock, often through covered galleries or tunnels in the cliff 
itself, the whole way from Nice to Monte Carlo and Mentone. The older portion 
of this road, between Nice and Villefranche, falls well within the scope of our 
present subject. 

You leave modern Nice by the quays and the Pont Garibaldi, dash rapidly 
through the new broad streets that now intersect the Italian city, skirt the square 
basins lately added to the more shapeless ancient Greek port of Lirnpia, and begin 
to mount the first spurs of the Mont Boron among the villas and gardens of the 
Quartier du Lazaret. Banksia roses fall in cataracts over the walls as you go ; looking 
back, the lovely panorama of Nice opens out before your eyes, as well shown in 
Mr. Fulleylove's charming drawing. In the foreground, the rocky islets of La Beserve 
foam white with the perpetual plashing of that summer sea. In the middle distance, 
the old Greek harbour, with its mole and lighthouse, stands out against the steep 
rocks of the Castle Hill. The background rises up in chain on chain of Alps, 
allowing just a glimpse at their base of that gay and fickle promenade and all 
the Parisian prettinesses of the new French town. The whole forms a wonderful 
picture of the varied Mediterranean world, Greek, Boman, Italian, French, with 
the vine-clad hills and orange-groves behind merging slowly upward into the 
snow-bound Alps. 

Turning the corner of the Mont Boron by the grotesque vulgarisms of the 
Chateau Smith (a curious semi -oriental specimen of the shell -grotto order of 
architecture on a gigantic scale) a totally fresh view bursts upon our eyes of the 
Bade de Villefranche, that exquisite land-locked bay bounded on one side by the 
scarped crags of the Mont Boron itself, and on the other by the long and rocky 
peninsula of St. Jean, which terminates in the Cap Ferrat and the Villefranche 
The long deep bay forms a favourite roadstead and rendezvous for the French 
Mediterranean squadron, whose huge ironclad monsters may often be seen ploughing 

NICE. 15 

their way in single file from seaward round the projecting headlands, or basking at 
ease on the cairn surface of that glassy pond. The surrounding heights, of course, 
bristle with fortifications, which, in these suspicious days of armed European tension, 
the tourist and the sketcher are strictly prohibited from inspecting with too attentive 
an eye. The quaintly picturesque town of Villefranche itself, Italian and dirty, 
but amply redeemed by its slender bell-tower and its olive-clad terraces, nestles 
snugly at the very bottom of its pocket-like bay. The new road to Monte Carlo 
leaves it far below, with true modern contempt for mere old-world beauty ; the 
artist and the lover of nature will know better than to follow the example of 
those ruthless engineers ; they will find many subjects for a sketch among those 
whitewashed walls, and many a rare sea-flower tucked away unseen among those 
crannied crags. 

And now, when all is said and done, I, who have known and loved Nice for so 
many bright winters, feel only too acutely how utterly I have failed to set before 
those of my readers who know it not the infinite charms of that gay and rose- 
wreathed queen of the smiling Eiviera. For what words can paint the life and 
movement of the sparkling sea-front ? the manifold humours of the Jardin Public ? 
the southern vivacity of the washerwomen who pound their clothes with big stones 
in the dry bed of the pebbly Paillon? the luxuriant festoons of honeysuckle and 
mimosa that drape the trellis- work arcades of Carabacel and Cimiez ? Who shall 
describe aright with one pen the gnarled olives of Beaulieu and the palace-like front 
of the Cercle de la Mediterranee ? Who shall write with equal truth of the jewellers' 
shops on the quays, or the oriental bazaars of the Avenue, and of the dome after 
dome of bare mountain tops that rise ever in long perspective to the brilliant white 
summits of the great Alpine backbone? Who shall tell in one breath of the 
carmagnoles of the Carnival, or the dust-begrimed "bouquets of the Battle of Flowers, 
and of the silent summits of the Mont Cau and the Cime de Vinaigrier, or the vast 
and varied sea-view that bursts on the soul unawares from the Corniche near Eza? 
There are aspects of Nice and its environs which recall Bartholomew Fair, or the 
Champs FJysees after a Sunday review; and there are aspects which recall the 
prospect from some solemn summit of the Bernese Oberland, mixed with some 
heather-clad hill overlooking the green Atlantic among the Western Highlands. Yet 
all is so graciously touched and lighted with Mediterranean colour and Mediterranean 
sunshine, that even in the midst of her wildest frolics you can seldom be seriously 
angry with Nice. The works of God's hand are never far off. You look up from the 
crowd of carriages and loungers on the Promenade des Anglais, and the Cap Ferrat 
rises bold and bluff before your eyes above the dashing white waves of the sky-blue 
sea: you cross the bridge behind the Casino amid the murmur of the quays, and 
the great bald mountains soar aloft to heaven above the brawling valley of the 



Place Masslna. 

snow-fed Paillon. It is a desecration, perhaps, but a desecration that leaves you 
still face to face with all that is purest and most beautiful in nature. 

And then, the flowers, the waves, the soft air, the sunshine! On the beach, 

between the bathing places, men are drying scented orange peel to manufacture 

perfumes: in the dusty high roads you catch whiffs as you pass of lemon blossom 

and gardenia: the very trade of the town is an export trade in golden acacia and 

crimson anemones : the very gamins pelt you in the rough horse-play of the Carnival 

with sweet-smelling bunches of syringa and lilac. Luxury that elsewhere would move 

one to righteous wrath is here so democratic in its display that one almost condones 

it. The gleaming white villas, with carved caryatides or sculptured porches of 

freestone nymphs, let the wayfarer revel as he goes in the riches of their shrubberies 

or their sunlit fountains and in the breezes that blow over their perfumed parterres. 

Nice vulgar ! Pah, my friend, if you say so, I know well why. You have a vulgar 

soul that sees only the gewgaws and the painted ladies. You have never strolled up 

by yourself from the noise and dust of the crowded town to the free heights of the 

Mont Alban or the flowery olive-grounds of the Magnan valley. You have never 

hunted for purple hellebore among the gorges of the Paillon or picked orchids and 

irises in big handfuls upon the slopes of Saint Andre. I doubt even whether you 

have once turned aside for a moment from the gay crowd of the Casino and the 

Place Massciia into the narrow streets of the Italian town; communed in their own 



delicious dialect with the free fisherfolk of the Limpia quarter ; or looked out with 
joy upon the tumbled plain of mountain heights from the breezy level of the Castle 
platform. Probably you have only sat for days in the balcony of your hotel, rolled 
at your ease down the afternoon Promenade, worn a false nose at the evening 
parade of the Carnival, or returned late at night by the last train from Monte Carlo 
with your pocket much lighter and your heart much heavier than when you left by 
the morning express in search of fortune. And then you say Nice is vulgar ! You 
have no eyes, it seems, for sea, or shore, or sky, or mountain ; but you look down 
curiously at the dust in the street, and you mutter to yourself that you find it 
uninteresting. When you go to Nice again, walk alone up the hills to Falicon, 
returning by Le Ray, and then say, if you dare, Nice is anything on earth but 

gloriously beautiful. 


ViUeJ'ranche, from the Sea. 

Mount Jila ami llic Gulf of Adratnyli 


Straits of the Dardanelles and their surroundings, 'though not without much 
natural beauty, derive their interest chiefly from the peculiarity of their position, 
and from the historical associations which have, from time immemorial, been 
connected with their shores and with the adjacent country. On the Asiatic side 
at least, every little headland and every inlet of the coast may be identified as 
the site of some ancient city or shrine, or as the scene of some historical or 
mythological event. Of the two peninsulas which are separated by the Straits, the 
larger forms the westernmost point of Asia, and embraces the scene of " The Tale 
of Troy Divine." The southern shore of this peninsula is washed by the waters of 
the deep and beautiful Bay of Adramyti. At its eastern end formerly stood the 
city of Adramyttium, according to Strabo a colony of the Athenians, but said by 
others to have been founded by Adramys, the brother of Croesus, King of Lydia. 
It was in a ship belonging to this ancient seaport that St. Paul embarked at 
n-ea, when on his way to Borne to plead his cause before the Emperor Nero. 
At the head of the gulf the mountain range of Ida approaches most nearly to the 
rock-girt shore, from which it appears to rise gradually to its highest snow-capped, 
and often cloud-enveloped, peak. 

From the mountain-mass of Ida long spurs are thrown out in various directions, 
a conformation which caused the ancients to compare it to a centipede, and its 
modern Turkish name of the "Goose Mountain" is derived from its supposed 


resemblance to the foot of that bird. The summit is in reality separated into 
four distinct peaks, to which classical writers gave collectively the name of Olympus, 
thereby implying that they were the abode of the gods ; and respectively, the names 
of Kotylos, Pytna, Alexandria, and Gargaros. The latter was more especially 
consecrated to Jupiter, and the lower slopes were sacred to the Mother of the 
Gods. Between the outlying spurs are green and wooded valleys, watered by 
numerous streams, which have their sources in the mountain itself. Homer aptly 
describes the mountain in the line 

" Ida, the many-fountained, mother of wild beasts ;" 

and the names of the several peaks, Gargaros, "the gurgling;" Kotylos, "the 
drinking cup ; " and Pytna, said to be an abbreviation of pijtuie (jrvTivrf), a willow- 
covered flask, well illustrate its character. The fourth peak has been immortalised 
as the scene of the " Judgment of Paris." The forests which clothe the lower 
elevations afford shelter, as of old, to numerous wild animals, wolves, bears, wild 
boars, and jackals, but the higher regions are bare of vegetation. Though in 
reality not much more than live thousand feet above the sea, the gigantic buttresses 
by which it is supported, its cloud-capped summit, and its position in the peninsula, 
give to Mount Ida an appearance of far greater altitude. 

A curious phenomenon, which has been variously explained, is sometimes visible 
on Mount Ida. During certain autumn nights flashes of light appear on the 
summit long before the break of day, which seem to proceed from earthly fires, but 
which gradually gather themselves into a mass as the shadows of night disappear, 
and are absorbed in the sun as he rises in his natural form. 

On emerging from the Gulf of Adramyti, and rounding Baba Bournou, the 
Turkish name of the ancient Cape Lectum, there appears in sight to the north the 
Island of Tenedos, and to the north-east the twin summits of the volcanic mountain 
of Lemnos, in which classic mythologists located the forges of Vulcan. The 
Asiatic shore along which we coast for an hour or two before entering the Strait of 
Tenedos presents no very remarkable features. Inland, however, the eye follows a 
range of wooded hills, behind which may still be seen, towering above the dark crests 
of Ida, the snowy summit of Mount Gargaros. Uninteresting as the seaboard appears 
at this distance, we are, nevertheless, passing the sand-choked harbour of Alexandria- 
Troas, to the south of the little promontory of Touslatik Bournou. An oak-forest 
now covers the remains of the theatres, temples, and aqueducts of the city founded 
by Antigonus in honour of Alexander the Great. Similarly overgrown, too, are the 
foundations of the outer and inner walls by which it was once defended; and for 
many miles around cultivation is rendered impossible by the quantities of broken 
marbles, arches, and other masonry which strew the ground, or are buried 


THE Pl( "IT III'. S 


beneath the surface. In the ancient port, which was evidently highly ornamented, 
hundreds of columns on a small scale lie scattered, and bristle among the waves to 
a considerable distance from the shore; and the remains of a submarine wall cause a 
ridge of breakers where the sea washes over them. The harbour now consists 
merely of two little lakes of salt water. 

On the other side of the above-mentioned cape the shallow curve of Besika 
Bay extends to Koum Bournou, or Sandy Point. The name of this anchorage is 
sufficiently familiar to Western ears as the station of the British and French fleets 
in 1853, and again of the former fleet during the last crisis of the Eastern Question. 

Alouiit Ida. 

Near the south extremity is the village of Talion Keui ; a tumulus is to be seen 
not far from the shore ; and, looking backwards, we again catch sight of the shining 
summit of Ida, towering above the intervening hills. A number of sailing vessels 
are often to be seen anchored in Besika Bay, waiting for a favourable breeze to 
waft them through the straits. 

Immediately opposite is the island-port of Tenedos, which appears to have the 
same reputation among modern mariners as it possessed when Virgil described it as 
xffitio male fid-i carinis, and so rock-girt is every other part of the coast that landing 
elsewhere is almost an impossibility. The little port is both picturesque and 
interesting. The town, which contains all the three thousand inhabitants of the 
island, chiefly Turks and Greeks, climbs up the side of a hill and is crowned with 
a fort and surrounded by massive walls with towers at intervals. On the hill-ridge 
to the south stands ;i row of windmills, terminated by a small fort which guards 
the entrance to the harbour. One or two gaudily-painted coasting vessels, moored to 
the diminutive quay, are taking on board casks of the muscat wine of Tenedos, 
which enjoys a certain reputation in the East. Peramas, with broad, wing-like 
Bails, are skimming over the leaping waves, which, in their "innumerable laughter" 

















Besika Bay. 

ov 7eXao-yu,a), reflect in their depths the incomparable azure of the sky, and flash 
back from their dancing crests the brilliant rays of the glowing sunlight. 

In Trojan times Tenedos was evidently one of the chief seats of the worship 
of the Smynthian Apollo, as appears from the invocation which Homer puts into 
the mouth of the high priest of that divinity : " Hear rne, O god of the silver 
bow ! Thou who guardest Cliryse and most holy Killa, and rulest Tenedos with 
might ! Smynthian Apollo, if ever I roofed for thee an acceptable shrine, or if ever 
I burnt for thee fat thighs of bulls or goats, fulfil my desire ! " * A few miles 
to the south of Alexandria- Troas was another seat of this cult, the town of 
Smynthiurn, from which this surname of Apollo is supposed to have been derived, 
though some authors derive it from Smintltos (a/wWto?), a mouse, this animal being 
sacred to the god. 

Lying, as Tenedos does, opposite the entrance to the Dardanelles, its position 
has always given it a certain strategical importance, and its historical vicissitudes 
have consequently been many. After forming part of the maritime empire of the 
Athenians, it fell successively under the domination of Macedon and of Home ; and 
in later times its possession was disputed by Paleologoi aiid Cantacuzenoi, Genoese 
and Venetians. Mohammed II. wrested it from the latter, who retook it in 1656, 
only to lose it again in the following year, since which time it has formed part of 
the Ottoman Empire. 

Beyond Tenedos the coasts of the Troad rise in rocky and precipitous cliffs. A 
small promontory, which is surmounted by a tumulus, and is called by native sailors 
the Cape of Troy, juts out opposite the " Isle of Babbits," and has been identified 

* Iliad I. 3740. 

2-2 THE Pl("l'l'i:i-:s( t )ri<; MEDITERRANEAN. 

by M. Choisenl-Goufner with the undent Agamia. This town, the name of which 
signifies " The Unwedded," is said to have been built in ineinoiy of the daughters 
of Troy who wnv exposed on this beacli to the fury of a marine monster, created 
by the vengeance of Poseidon to punish Laoinedon for the bad faith he had kept 
with him. When the lot fell upon the king's daughter, Hesione, it so happened that 
Herakles was returning from his expedition against the Amazons, and lie promised 
to save the maiden if Laomedon would give him the horses which Tros had once 
received from Zeus as a compensation for Ganymede. The king promised, but again 
broke his word ; whereupon Herakles sailed with a squadron of six ships against 
Troy, and slew Laomedou with all his sous, save Priam. 

According to some authors, however, this sea monster was a pirate named 
Ketou, to whom the Trojans paid a tribute of their daughters. A cleft which is 
to be seen in the rocks a little farther to the north is supposed to he identifiable 
with the Propugnacidnm Herat Us, an entrenchment raised by Herakles and the 
Trojans to withstand the pirate. 

Before arriving at this cleft, however, we pass the village of Yenikeui, which 
overhangs the sea on a cliff 203 feet high. Beyond it the precipitous rocks are 
crowned with occasional windmills, as far as the cape and village of Yeni Shehir. 
Among them rises the Chapel of St. Dimitri, built on the site of an ancient Temple 
of Demeter, some of the marble fragments of which 'have been used for its 
construction. The custom of replacing Pagan shrines by churches dedicated to 
Christian saints with names phonetically similar is very general throughout the 
East. Apollo, under his designation of Helios ("HXtov), becomes St. Elias, the 
Parthenos is transformed into the Virgin Mary, and so on. 

Yeni Shehir occupies the site of the ancient Sigeum. Its citadel has, however, 
given place to a number of windmills, and a Christian church has been built over the 
ruins of a temple of Athene, fragments of which are still to be found lying around. 
The ancient city is said to have been constructed in great part with materials 
brought from the overthrown walls, towers, and temples of the ruined Ilium, which 
had ceased to be the abode of men ere Sigeum was founded. From this point a 
magnificent prospect opens out before the eye on all sides. The Homeric Plain lies 
to the east; to the west is the ^Igean Sea, with its islands, looking like enchanted 
regions in the magic light of sunrise or sunset. Behind Imbros rises the island peak 
of Samothrace, on which Poseidon sat and gazed on the battle raging before Troy ; 
and, when the weather is clear, the mountain of Holy Athos, though distant more 
than a hundred miles, is often visible. Northwards stretches the entrance to the 
blue Hellespont, bounded by the Thracian Chersonese, which runs out opposite to a 
point on which formerly stood the town of Elseus. And, to add a mythological to 
the natural and historical interest of this spot, tradition relates that it was the 


landing-place of Herakles with his band of heroes when on his way to the attack of 
Troy, and of the Greeks under Agamemnon. 

After doubling the promontory of Sigeum three tumuli come into sight, standing 
close together near the shore of a little bay, which are believed to be the tombs of 
Festus, Patroclus, and Achilles respectively. A little beyond is the fort of Kouin 
Kaleh, built on the beach at the mouth of 'the Simois. Behind it is the little 
Turkish town of the same name, the two white minarets of which are visible above 
the battlements of the castle. Though the fortress walls are high and massive, they 
can now be easily scaled, the wind having accumulated masses of sand on the east 
side. It is supposed that at the time of the Trojan War the tomb of Achilles stood 
at the extreme point, and that what is now marshy land between that and Cape 
Top-Tashi, the ancient Ehoeteum, was formerly a bay, which has been gradually filled 
up by the deposits of the Simois, and its tributary, the Scamander. 

Here it is that we must land if we would tread on Trojan soil, and visit the 
reputed locality of those exploits immortalised by Homer " The flowery meadow 
of the Scamander," and 

" That field with blood bedewed in vain, 
The desert of old Priam's pride "- 

scenes difficult to realise on the now solitary plain, tenanted for the most part 
only by buffaloes, herons, and frogs. The strong northerly breeze which whistles 
through the clumps of rushes reminds us that we have before us what Homer called 
'.Duo? f,ven6eff<ra, " the windy Ilium ; " and to our right is still the snow-capped peak 
of "Mother Ida," embracing within her amphitheatre of encircling hills the valley 

of the Simois. 

The Plain of Troy is perhaps even more favoured than the surrounding country 
with an exuberant fertility of soil and glorious beauty of landscape, and we ride to 
Hissarlik, the scene of Dr. Schliemann's wonderful excavations, by bridle-paths which 
lead through meadows of luxuriant grass, and red, yellow, and white flowers, with 
cornfields on either hand. To our left a hill-ridge, covered with VaUonia oaks, runs 
out as far as the promontory of Ehoeteum, on the declivity of which stands, 
one hundred and thirty feet above the sea, the tumulus ascribed by tradition to 
Ajax, the genitive form of whose name, Atavrm, is still to be found in the name of 
Aiant-Upe (the Hill of Ajax), bestowed on it by the Turks. To the north of the 
tumulus lies the site of an ancient city, probably Aeantium, strewn with fragments 
of pottery and sculptured splinters of white marble. 

A ride of a few miles brings us to Hissarlik, which, whether it be or not the true 
site of the city of Priam, has yielded to the explorer unhoped-for treasures. Nowhere 
else in the world has the earth covered up so many remains of ancient settlements 
of man, lying upon each other, with such rich contents concealed within them. 


Standing at the bottom of the great funnel which has opened up the heart of the 
hill-fortress, the eye wanders over the lofty walls of the excavations, beholding here 
the ruins of dwelling houses, there the great jars, five feet in height, which contained 
the provisions of former inhabitants ; on one side the remains of a temple, on 
another those of a kitchen. Not the least interesting of these successive strata is 
that called by Dr. Scliliemann "The Burnt City," one of the deepest, being the third 

from the bottom. 
This had apparently 
been destroyed by a 
devouring fire, in 
which the clay walls 
of buildings were 
molten and made 
fluid like wax, con- 
gealed drops of glass 
bearing witness at 
the present day to 
the intensity of the 
conflagration. Curi- 
ous and costly trea- 
sures were gathered 
from .the ashes, one 
after another. Ves- 
sels and ornaments 
of pure gold and of 
fine workmanship, 
which had escaped 
the scorching heat, 
presented themselves 
to the astonished 

eyes of the searchers. Vases of quaint form, and multitudes of objects inscribed with 
sacred and mystical characters, were there unearthed, emblems of the religious 
worship of forgotten nations. But it would be superfluous here to describe the 
many wonders of Dr. Schliemann's Troy, for are they not written in his book 
on "Ilion"? 

The traveller may ride hence to the little town of Chenak, commonly called by 

European 'The Dardanelles," and he will do wisely. For the wild northerly 

wind, so frequent in this locality, may make it a day's journey by sea, and 

hut a six hours' ride, through charming scenery along the coast, which here 



Castle of Europe, Dardanelles. 

forms a deep bay, past the tomb of Ajax, the ruius of Ehceteum, and the site of 
the ancient Dardanus, wliich was 

" Peopled first, 

Ere Sacred Ilion, with its teeming crowds, 
Was founded on the plain." 

Fertile plains and wooded hills bound the view on the Asiatic side, an across the 
Hellespont rises, in bare cliffs, the rocky shore of Europe. The Castle of Asia, 
which commands the entrance to the narrower portion of the Straits, stands on a 
point at the mouth of the river of the Dardanelles, which has its sources in Mount Ida, 
and is identified with the Khodios of Homer. This fort, called by the Turks Siiltanie- 
Kalessi, " The Sultan's Castle," or Chenak-Kaleh, " The Castle of the Potteries," 
from the chief industry carried on in the adjoining town, consists of a solidly-built 
castle, with modern batteries. Seen from the sea, Chenak stretches beyond the 
fort in a long line, close to the water's edge : its minarets and many-coloured houses, 
with their green jalousies and red-tiled roofs, their little boat-piers and bathing huts, 
and its consular residences, distinguishable by their various flags, offer, as it were, a 
foretaste of the Bosphorus. The town is inhabited by a mixed population, the 
majority of whom are Jews engaged in the wine trade, and in the various little 
employments created by the compulsory stoppage of all vessels at this port, in order 
to show their firmans. The pottery manufacture is carried on by means of the 
most primitive machinery. Besides the vessels for domestic purposes, a large number 
of coarse, but highly ornate, water vases and jugs are produced, and sold on board 
the passing ships. Some of these are in the forms of lions, horses, and other 
animals, and are not unlike the animal-shaped vessels found in the buried City of 
the Trojan Plain. By the river side is the Meidan, or Common, an extensive 



park-like expanse, carpeted with rich grass, and shaded by numerous beautiful trees. 
Here and there are little verandah-fronted coffee-houses, before which long-robed 
and white-turbaned Osmanlis are seated on carpets, or on little rush-bottomed stools, 
gravely smoking the long chibouk, or snaky uarghileh. At a little distance, under 
the trees, a group of Turkish women, squatting on rugs, are having a merry picnic, 
and in their many- tinted feridges, pink, blue, and lilac, make bright patches of 
colour on the luxuriant greensward. 

On the other side of the Straits the Castle of Europe, also called by the Turks 
Kelid-td-Bahar, the " Key of the Sea," stands on a point of land which juts out 
to within a mile and a quarter from the Asiatic shore. This point, which was called 
by the ancients Kynosema, is associated with Hecuba, the second wife of Priam, 
King of Troy. According to the tragedy of Euripides (Hec. 3), which bears her 
name, she was made a slave by the Greeks on their taking Troy, and was carried 
by them to the Thracian Chersonesus, where she saw her daughter, Polyxena, 
sacrificed. On the same day the waves of the sea washed the body of her last 
surviving son, Polydorus, on the coast where stood the tents in which the captive 
women were kept. Hecuba recognised the body, and sent for Polymestor, who 
had murdered him, pretending that she was going to inform him of a treasure which 
was concealed at Ilium. When Polymestor arrived, with his two sons, Hecuba 
murdered the children and tore out the eyes of their father. Agamemnon pardoned 
her for the crime ; but Polymestor prophesied to her that she should be 
metamorphosed into a dog, and should leap into the sea at this place. According 
to other writers, she was given as a slave to Odysseus, and in despair leaped into 
the Hellespont ; or, being anxious to die, she uttered such vituperative imprecations 
against the Greeks that the warriors put her to death, and called the place where 
she was buried Kwo? o-^a, ." The Grave of the Dog." 

The castle consists of an ancient fortress, surrounded by more modern fortifications, 
and adjoining it is the village, terminated by the inevitable windmills, which stand at 
the extreme edge of the cliff. At this point the current, flowing incessantly from 
the Black Sea into the Mediterranean, attains immense rapidity, and vessels going 
northward are unable to sail against it, save with a strong wind from the south. 
With the exception of the despatch -vessels attached to the foreign embassies at 
Constantinople, no man-of-war is allowed to pass the Castles of Europe and Asia, 
the guns of which sweep, with a cross fire, the narrow channel. This passage was, 
however, in 1807, forced by the British fleet under Admiral Duckworth. The 
Turkish cannon were old-fashioned, and the gunners very indifferent marksmen. 
Not a single mast was struck, and the fleet sailed through with a few torn sails, 
and some sixty men killed and wounded. It did not, however, return so easily. 
After having destroyed a Turkish squadron, the fleet lay eleven days before the 


capital while negotiations were proceeding ; and in the meantime the Turks, with 
the assistance of the French ambassador, improved the defences of the Dardanelles. 
When the English ships again appeared, the ancient guns succeeded in discharging 
upon them a number of the immense balls of marble, which are still included among 
the ammunition of these forts, and which not only did considerable damage to the 
ships, but occasioned the loss of many seamen. The more modern fortifications by 
which the Straits are now defended would, it is believed, with the additional defence 
afforded by the Castle of Abydos, render such a feat difficult at the present day, 
notwithstanding the quicker transit by steam. 

Beyond the Castle of Europe the coast of the Chersonese retreats, forming 
the Gulf of Maito, on the shore of which is a village of the same name, all that 
survives of the ancient Madytos, of the Acropolis of which a few traces alone 

Opposite, on the Asiatic side, the Cape of Nagara marks the exact site of the 
ancient Abydos. This, according to Herodotus, Strabo, and Pliny, was formerly the 
narrowest point of the channel. It appears, however, to have been widened by the 
action of the currents, for modern geographers estimate it to be a little wider than 
between the Castles of Europe and Asia. Here Xerxes constructed a bridge for the 
passage of his army into Europe. The ancient town was originally built by a colony 
of the Lesbians, and after having been burnt down by Darius, was rebuilt in the time 
of Xerxes. It is mentioned several times in the history of the Peloponnesian Wars. 
Fortified by Antiochus in 190 B.C., it was a few years later besieged by the Koman 
Admiral Livius. Nothing now remains of the ancient town. The port, of which 
M. Choiseul-Gouffier found some traces, was contained in the bend formed by the 
long sandy point of Nagara, on which now stands a Turkish fort. It was here that 
the Sultan Mohammed IV., in 1GGG, astutely exposed the imposture of a pretended 
Messiah, the Jew Sabatai'-Sevi, whose teachings had been the cause of great disorder 
among his co-religionists at Smyrna. "Canst thou work miracles?" demanded the 
Sultan of his prisoner. "I can," was the reply. "Then," resumed the Padishah, 
" my archers shall make of tliee their target. If their arrows harm thee not, then 
art thou indeed the Messiah." At the prospect of this ordeal Sabatai's courage 
failed him. He confessed his imposture, and when offered the choice of impalement 
or perversion, he chose the latter, declaring that his object had always been that 
of leading his followers to embrace the faith of Islam, and to declare with the True 
Believers that " there is no god but Allah, and Mohammed is His prophet." Such, 
however, was the credulity of many of his followers, that although, from fear of 
persecution, they imitated their leader in his apostacy, they still believed in his 
divine mission, and continued to cherish in secret the doctrines he had taught. The 
descendants of this sect are now to be found chiefly at Salonica, where, though 



nominally Mohammedans, they form a distinct community, having never become 
assimilated with the rest of the Moslem population. 

It is onlv after rounding the point of Abydos that Sestos, on the opposite shore, 
foincs into view. According to the touching old story sung by Musaeus and 
mentioned by Ovid, Leauder, a youth of Abydos, swam every night across the 
Hellespont to visit Hero, a priestess of Aphrodite, in the temple of Sestos, guided 
by the beacon of the lighthouse. Once, during a stormy night, the light was 
extinguished, and he perished in the waves. On the next morning his corpse 
\\as washed on the shore at Sestos, and Hero, in her grief on beholding it, threw 
herself into the sea. Leander's feat was imitated by Lord Byron, who, however, 
swam from Sestos to Abydos, and consequently with, instead of against the rapid 


current. The Castle of Zumenick, built on the hill above Sestos, was the first 
place in Europe on which the Ottoman flag was planted by Soliman I., and a 
rocky strand, or mole, below bears the name of Glia-zller IsMessi, " The Victor's 

Beyond Sestos and Abydos the Channel widens. On both sides are now seen 
fertile plains, watered by several small rivers. After passing the Castles of Kaziler 
and Ouelger, we see, on the European side, the mouth of the river called by the 
ancients the ^Egos-Potamos, immortalised by the victory of Lysander over the 
Athenians, which terminated the Peloponnesiaii AVar. On the opposite side is 
Lampeaki, a small town of some two hundred houses, grouped round a minaretted 
mosque, built on the site of the ancient Lampsacus. It occupies a beautiful 
position, amid olive groves and vineyards, with a fine background of wooded hills. 
Of the ancient city, however, no traces remain. Lampsacus was one of the three 
towns given to Themistoeles by Xerxes, " Magnesia for his bread, Migus for his 




meat, and Lampsacus for his wine." A mile or two farther on is the little town 
of Tchardak, and opposite, on the European shore, is Gallipoli. 

This town, which replaces the ancient Callipolis, stands on the south side of 
the little peninsula which terminates the Straits on the European side, and has two 
ports, one facing northwards and the other southwards. The town is picturesquely 
situated at the foot and up the sides of a fortress-crowned hill, and above its red 
roofs rise the minarets 
of several mosques. The 
lighthouse is huilt at the 
end of a cliff, which 
terminates in immense 
blocks of rock, and forms 
a striking object in the 
landscape when seen from 
the south. Native boats 
and coasting vessels of 
various build are moored 
to the little wharves, or 
skim bird -like over the 
water, manned by vari- 
ously costumed Greeks, 
Turks, and Jews. Like 
all Oriental towns, Gal- 
lipoli looks best from the 
sea, for its streets are 
narrow, its houses low 
and constructed chiefly 
of wood, and its mosques 
are of no particular inte- 
rest. The bazaars, however, are large, and well stocked with the merchandise usually 
found in an Eastern tsliarslii. 

This town possesses the interest of having been the first in Europe to fall into 
the hands of the Turks, nearly a century before the capture of Constantinople 
(1453). To console himself for this loss the Emperor John Paleologos was in the 
habit of saying that he had only been deprived of a winejar and a pigstye, alluding 
to the cellars and storehouses which Justinian had built there. The Ottoman Sultans, 
however, were better able to appreciate the importance of this position ; and Bajazid I. 
caused the port and the walls of Gallipoli to be repaired, and built a great tower, 
now fallen into decay. Few remains of any interest are to be found here, with the 



exce])tio]i of tlio ruined fortifications. A little to the north, up a creek, is a little 
hexagonal edifice, the origin of which is unknown, and to the south are several 
tumuli, which have the reputation of being the tombs of the ancient Kings of Thrace. 

The little peninsula on which Gallipoli stands forms, with the rounded headland 
above Lampsaki, the northern mouth of the Dardanelles. From its point the eye 
wanders backwards down the Hellespont as far as Abydos. Beyond the smiling 
Asiatic shore, stretching away to the east in bay and cape and wooded hill, we 
catch a last glimpse of Ida's hoary summit. And before us, out of the blue expanse 
of the waters, rise the rocky shores of the " Marble Island," which gives its 
modern name to the Sea of Marmora. 

This island, which lies to the north-east and is the largest of a group of five, 
was called by the ancients Proconnesus. Its history has been as full of vicissitudes 
as that of Tenedos, at the other end of the Straits. Occupied by a Milesian 
colony in the seventh century B.C., and subsequently by the Athenians, it was 
burnt by the Phoenicians after the revolt of the lonians. At the conclusion of the 
Medic wars it again fell into the hands of the Athenians, and formed part of the 
Empire of Athens. The ancient name of the island was, during the middle ages, 
replaced by that of Marmora, or Marmara. This change of name is attributed by 
some to the marble quarries for which the island is famed (from Mappapa, marble), 
and which have for centuries supplied the material for the monuments and chief 
edifices of Constantinople and the other cities of the Mgean. Other authorities, 
however, are of opinion that this name dates from 1224, the period when George 
Marmora was made sovereign of the Proconnesus by the Byzantine Emperor, 
Emanuel Comneua, his relative. 

The chief place in the island also bears the name of Marmora. It has lost 
much of the importance which it possessed in Byzantine times ; but is still a 
considerable town, with a good port. The large convents which formerly flourished 
here have fallen into decay, and there are now but few inhabitants in the rest of 
the island. Notwithstanding its name, Marmora is not unfertile, and exports some 
native produce. Its chief trade is of course in the brilliant white marble which is 
evidently abundant and worked at a very small cost, seeing that the doorsteps of 
the generality of houses in Smyrna are made of it, that it forms the pavement of 
their spacious vestibules, and is sometimes used for still meaner purposes. 

The other islands belonging to this group are called respectively Afsia, the 
ancient Ophiusa, Koulali, Aloni (the Halone of Pliny), and Gadaro. The two first- 
mentioned are the largest, the remainder being mere islets. All are, however, fertile, 
and are cultivated by a sparse Greek population. Beyond them extends the triangular 
peninsula of Cyzicus. The ancient town of this name lies in the farthest reach of 
the deep western bay where the neck of land which connects the peninsula with 


the mainland is only about a couple of miles across, and forms the apex of the 
triangle which, at its base, measures some twenty miles. 

Nearer to us, however, and to the west, a few miles above Gallipoli, on the 
curving coast, is the site of the ancient Lysimachia, the Hexamilion of the Byzantines, 
now a mere village. The acropolis of this city was connected with the wall of the 
Chersonese, the remains of which are still to be seen between the inland villages 
of lasili and Kadjali. This wall was first built by Miltiades to protect the towns 
of the Chersonese against the invasions of the Barbarians. It was often destroyed 
and rebuilt before the time of Lysiinachus, and subsequently served as foundation for 
a Byzantine line of defence, concerning which Procopius has given many details. 
The ruins of the Chersonese wall are still very considerable. There are still to be 
seen at its base large blocks of stone, carefully chiselled, belonging to the Greek 
period. The wall followed an almost direct line from sea to sea across the peninsula, 
which is at this point about six miles in width. The village of Hexamil, or, as it is 
also called, Axamil, which is all that remains of the classic Lysimachia and the 
Byzantine Hexamilion, still boasts some remains of ancient temples and fragments of 
sculpture. The French archaeologist, M. Albert Dumont, found here a funeral tablet 
representing a crocodile about to devour a youth, and some large amphorae on which 
the name of Alexis Comnenus is repeated from fifteen to twenty times in highly 
ornamental Gothic characters, arranged on three bauds running round the body. 
Axamil is situated on the little Gulf of Saros, in the centre of which lies the island 
of the same name. The shores of the gulf are dotted with villages. The Thracian 
mainland is from this point extremely flat and uninteresting. Looking seawards, 
however, the view is still magnificent. In the foreground gleams the island of 
Marmora ; and beyond stretch the Mysian and Bythinian shores, richly tinged with 
ever-varying opal lights. 

The regions surrounding the Dardanelles have been, from time immemorial, 
subject to severe earthquakes, and the eminent geologist, Sir Charles Lyell, is of 
opinion that these straits, as well as the Bosphorus, were formed by the bursting 
through of the Black Sea into the J^gean, in consequence of some subterranean 
disturbance. The rocks on both sides of the northern mouth of the Bosphorus are 
volcanic, and an earthquake rift in the coast at this point probably let loose the 
waters of the Euxine over the country between that sea and the ^Egean. As the 
above-mentioned author says, " the traditions which have come down to us from 
remote ages of great inundations had doubtless their origin in a series of local 
catastrophes caused principally by earthquakes." And as to the great inundation 
known as the deluge of Samothrace, which is generally referred to a distinct date, 
" it appears that the shores of that small island and the adjoining mainland of Asia 
were inundated by the sea." 


'////; P1CTUE /; s v i ' /; .1 / /; nrr /; // RA NEA N. 

Sicnlus says that the inhabitants had time to take refuge in the 
mountains and save themselves by Might. He also relates that long after the event, 
the fishermen of the island occasionally drew up in their nets the capitals of columns 
"which were the remains of cities submerged by that terrible catastrophe." And it 
is not impossible, according to Sir Charles Lyell, "that the bursting of the Black 
Sea through the Thracian Bosphorus into the Grecian Archipelago which accompanied, 
some say caused, the Samothracian deluge, may have reference to a wave or 
succession of waves raised in the Euxiue by the same convulsion." 

The facts which seem to indicate that in the Troad volcanic agencies were still 
active at a comparatively recent epoch, and at all events since the beginning of the 
historic period, find further confirmation in a popular tradition which was current 
among the inhabitants of that ancient city of Assos, on the Gulf of Adramyti. 
According to this tradition, there was found near Assos a kind of stone so burning hot 
that the dead buried in these regions were immediately consumed, a circumstance 
which caused the name of AMos aapKoif>dyo<;, " The Body-consumiug-Stone," to be given 
to it. This story is no doubt based on the hot temperature which exhaled from 
the fissures of the trachytic rocks which prevail generally in this district. The 
brine-springs of Touzla, a little to the north, which are mentioned by Strabo and 
Pliny, still send out their jets, at a temperature of from 78 to 100 degrees centigrade, 
hotter even than the waters of the Great Geyser of Iceland. 


The Dardanelles : Looking towards Constantinople. 


is a difference of opinion among voyagers as to whether it is best to 
approach Malta by night or by day ; whether there is a greater charm in 
tracing the outline of " England's Eye in the Mediterranean " by the long, 
undulating lines of light along its embattled front, and then, as the sun rises, to 
permit the details to unfold themselves, or to see the entire mass of buildings 
and sea walls and fortifications take shape according to the rapidity with which 
the ship nears the finest of all the British havens in the Middle Sea. Much 
might be said for both views, and if by " Malta " is meant its metropolis, 
then the visitor would miss a good deal who did not see the most picturesque 
portion of the island in both of these aspects. And by far the majority of those 
who touch at Valletta, on their way to or from some other place, regard this city 
as "the colony" in miniature. Many, indeed, are barely aware that it has a name 
apart from that of the island on which it is built; still fewer that the "Villa" 
of La Vallette is only one of four fortified towns all run into one, and that over 
the surface of this thickly populated clump are scattered scores of villages, while 
their entire coasts are circled by a ring of forts built wherever the cliffs are not 
steep enough to serve as barriers against an invader. On the other hand, while 
there is no spot in the Maltese group half so romantic, or any " casal " a tithe as 
magnificent as Valletta and its suburbs, it is a little unfortunate for the scenic 
reputation of the chief island-fortress that so few visitors see any other part of it 



than the country in the immediate vicinity of its principal town. For, if none of 
the islands are blessed with striking scenery, that of Malta proper is perhaps the 
least attractive. 

Though less than sixty miles from Sicily, these placid isles, oft though they have 
been shaken by earthquakes, do not seem to have ever been troubled by the volcanic 
outbursts of Etna. Composed of a soft, creamy rock, dating from the latest 
geological period, the elephants and hippopotami disinterred from their caves show 
that, at a time when the Mediterranean stretched north and south over broad 
areas which are now dry land, these islands were still under water, and that at a 
date comparatively recent, before the Straits of Gibraltar had been opened, and 
when the contracted Mediterranean was only a couple of lakes, Malta was little 
more than a peninsula of Africa. Indeed, so modern is the groiip as we know it, 
that within the human era Comino seems to have been united with the islands on 
each side of it. For, as the deep wheel-ruts on the opposite shores of the two 
nearer islands, even at some distance in the water, demonstrate, the intervening 
straits have either been recently formed, or were at one period so shallow as 
to be fordable. 

But if it be open to doubt whether night or day is the best time to make our 
first acquaintance with Malta, there can be none as to the season of the year when 
it may be most advantageously visited ; for if the tourist comes to Malta in spring, 
he will find the country bright with flowers, and green with fields of wheat and 
barley, and cumin and " sulla " clover, or cotton, and even with plots of sugar-cane, 
tobacco, and the fresh foliage of vineyards enclosed by hedges of prickly pears 
ready to burst into gorgeous blossom. Patches of the famous Maltese potatoes flourish 
cheek by jowl with noble crops of beans and melons. Figs and pomegranates, 
peaches, pears, apricots, and medlars are in blossom; and if the curious pedestrian 
peers over the orchard walls, he may sight oranges and lemons gay with the 
flowers of which the fragrance is scenting the evening air. But in autumn, when the 
birds of passage arrive for the winter, the land has been burnt into barrenness by the 
summer sun and the scorching scirocco. The soil, thin, but amazingly fertile, and 
admirably suited by its spongy texture to retain the moisture, looks white and 
parched as it basks in the hot sunshine ; and even the gardens, enclosed by high 
stone walls to shelter them from the torrid winds from Africa, or the wild 
" gregale " from the north, or the Levanter which sweeps damp and depressing 
towards the Straits of Gibraltar, fail to relieve the dusty, chalk-like aspect of the 
landscape. Hills there are they are called the " Bengemma mountains " by the 
proud Maltese but they are mere hillocks to the scoffer from more Alpine 
regions, for at Ta-Faghlia, the highest elevation in Malta, 750 feet is the total 
tale told by the barometer, while it is seldom that the sea cliffs reach half that 

MALTA. 35 

height. The valleys in the undulating surface are in proportion, and even they 
and the little glens worn by the watercourses are bald, owing to the absence of wood ; 
for what timber grew in ancient times has long ago been hewn down, and the 
modern Maltee has so inveterate a prejudice against green leaves which are not 
saleable that he is said to have quietly uprooted the trees which a paternal 
Government planted for the supposed benefit of unappreciative children. Hence, 
with the exception of a bosky grove around some ancient palace of the knights, 
or a few carob trees, so low that the goats in lack of humbler fodder can, as in 
Morocco, climb into them for a meal, the rural districts of Malta lack the light 
and shade which forests afford, just as its arid scenery is unrelieved either by lake, 
or river, or by any brook worthy of the name. However, as the blue sea, running 
into inlet and bay, or ending the vista of some narrow street, or driving the 
spray before the "tempestuous" wind, called " Euroklydon," is seldom out of sight, 
the sparkle of inland water is less missed than it would be were the country larger. 

But Malta proper is only one of the Maltese group. As the geography books 
have it, there are three main islands, Malta, Gozo, and between them the little one of 
Comino, which with Cominetto, a still smaller islet close by, seems to have been the 
crest of a land of old, submerged beneath the sea. The voyager is barely out of sight 
of Sicily before the faint outlines of these isles are detected, like sharply defined 
clouds against a serenely blue sky. Yet, iindeniably, the first view of Malta is 
disappointing; for with Etna fresh in the memory of the visitor from one direction, 
and the great Kock of Gibraltar vivid in the recollection of those arriving from the 
other end of the Mediterranean, there is little in any of the three islands to strike 
the imagination. For most of the picturesqueness of Malta is due to the works of 
man, and all of its romance to the great names and mighty events with which its 
historic shores are associated. But there are also around the coasts of this major 
member of the Maltese clump the tiny Filfla, with its venerable church ; the Pietro 
Negro, or Black Eock ; Gzeier sanctified by the wreck of St. Paul; and Scoglio 
Marfo, on which a few fishermen encamp, or which grow grass enough for some 
rabbits or a frugal goat or two ; and, great in fame though small in size, the Hagra 
tal General, or Fungus Rock, on which still flourishes that curious parasitic plant, 
the Fungus Melitensis of the old botanists, the Cynomorium coccineum of latter-day 
systematists. The visitor who has the curiosity to land on the rock in April or May 
will find it in full flower, and perhaps, considering its ancient reputation, may be 
rather disappointed with the appearance of a weed which at one time enjoyed 
such a reputation as a stauncher of blood and a sovereign remedy for a host of 
other diseases that the Knights of Malta stored it carefully as a gift for friendly 
monarchs and to the hospitals of the island. It is less valued in our times, though 
until very recently the keeper of the rock on which it flourishes most abundantly 



was a permanent official in the colonial service. The place indeed is seldom profaned 
ftowadaya by human feet; for the box drawn in a pulley by two cables, which was 
the means of crossing the hundred and fifty feet of sea between the rocks and the 
shore of Dueira, was broken down some years ago, and has not since been renewed. 
But, apart from these scientific associations of this outlier of Gozo, the second largest 
island of the Maltese group is worthy of being more frequently examined than it is, 

albeit the lighthouse of Ta 
Giurdan is familiar enough 
to every yachtsman in the 
" Magnum Mare." For it 
is the first bit of Malta 
seen from the west, and 
the last memory of it 
which the home - coming 
exile sights as he returns 
with a lighter heart from 
the East. Yet except for 
its classical memories (it 
was the fabled isle of 
Calypso, the Gaulos of the 
Greeks, the Gaulum of the 
Romans, and the Ghaudex 
of the Arabs, a name still 
in use among the natives), 
the tourist in search of 
the picturesque will not 
find a great deal to gratify 
him in Gozo, with its bay- 
indented shore, rugged in 
places, but except in the 
southern and western coast 

rarely attaining a height of three hundred feet above the sea. Still, its pleasing 
diversity of hill and dale, its occasional groves of trees, and the flourishing gardens 
from which Valletta market is supplied with a great portion of its vegetables, lend 
an appearance of rural beauty to Gozo seldom seen or altogether lacking in the rest 
of the group. Gozo appears to have suffered less from foreign invasions than Malta 
or even Comino. Its goat cheese still preserves something of the reputation that 
comestible obtained in days when the world had a limited acquaintance with dairy 
produce, and the " Maltese jacks," potent donkeys (the very antipodes of their tiny 

Valletta, on the side of the Quarantine Harbour. 











kindred on the Barbary coast) which have been known to fetch five hundred pounds 
in America, are mostly exported from this spot. But, like the peculiar dogs and 
cats of the group, they are now getting scarce. 

The appearance of the Gozitans also is somewhat different from that of their 
countrymen ^Isewhere, and they speak the Maltese tongue with a closer approach to 
the Arabic than do the inhabitants of the other islands, whose speech has become 
intermingled with that of every Mediterranean race, from the Tynans to the- Italians, 
though the basis of it is unquestionably Phoenician, and is gradually getting dashed 
with the less sonorous language of their latest rulers. Indeed, the lamps in daily use 
are identical in shape with the earthenware ones disinterred from the most ancient 
of Carthaginian tombs, and until lately a peculiar jargon, allied to Hebrew, and 
known as "Braik," was spoken at Casal Garbo, an inland village not far from the 
bay off which lies the General's Eock. But the Gozo folk nowadays trade neither 
in tin nor in purple, their gaily-painted boats crossing the Straits of Freghi with 
no more romantic cargoes than cabbages and cucumbers for Her Majesty's ships ; 
and the swarthy damsels who sit at the half-doors of the white houses are intent 
on nothing so much as the making of the famous Maltese lace. Except, however, 
in the strength, industry, and thrift of the Gozitans, there is little in this island 

to remind the visitor of their Phoenician forefathers, and in a few years, owing to 


the steady intercourse which daily steam comnranication has brought about between 
them and their less sophisticated countrymen, the "Giant's Tower" (the ruins of a 
temple of Astarte) at Casal Xghara will be about the only remnant of these pre-historic 
settlers. But Casal Nadur, with its robust men and handsome women, the Tierka 
Zerka or Azure Window, a natural arch on the seashore, and Rabato, the little capital 
in the centre of the island, which, in honour of the Jubilee year, changed its name 
for that of Victoria, are all worthy of a walk farther afield than Migiarro, or the 
"carting place," off which the Valletta steamer anchors. From the ruined walls of 
the citadel the visitor can survey Gozo with its conical hills, flattened at the top 
owing to the wearing away of the upper limestone by the action of the weather and 
sinking of the underlying greensand, the whole recalling a volcano-dotted region. 
Then, if he cares to tarry so long, the sightseer may from this pleasant centre tramp 
or drive to the Bay of Ramla, in a rock overhanging which is another " Grotto of 
Calypso," or to the Bay of Marsa-il-Forno, or to the Bay of Xlendi, through a 
well-watered ravine filled with fruit-trees, a walk which offers an opportunity of seeing 
the best cliff scenery in the island ; or, finally, to the Gala Dueira, hard by which is 
the General's Rock, which (as we already know) forms one of the chief lions of 
Gozo. Comino with its caves will not detain the most eager of sightseers very long, 
and its scanty industries, incapable of supporting more than forty people, are not 
calculated to arouse much enthusiasm. 

MALTA. 39 

The shortest route to Valletta from Migiarro is to Marfa ; but most people will 
prefer to land at once at Valletta. Here the change from the quiet islands to the 
busy metropolis of the group is marked. Everything betokens the capital of a 
dependency which, if not itself wealthy, is held by a wealthy nation, and a fortress 
upon which money has been lavished by a succession of military masters without 
any regard to the commercial aspects of the outlay. For if Malta has been and 
must always continue to be a trading centre, it has for ages never ceased to be 
primarily a place of arms, a stronghold to the defensive strength of which every 
other interest must give way. All the public buildings are on a scale of 
substantiality which, to the voyager hitherto familiar only with Gibraltar, is rather 
striking. Even the residences of the officials are finer than one would expect in a 
" colony " (though there are no colonists, and no room for them) with a population 
less than that of a second-rate English borough (164,000), and a revenue rarely 
exceeding 250,000 per annum. Dens, vile beyond belief, there are no doubt in 
Valletta. But these are for the most part in narrow bye-lanes, which have few 
attractions for the ordinary visitor, or in the Manderaggio, a quasi-subterranean 
district, mostly below sea-level, where the houses are often without windows and 
conveniences even more important ; so that there is an unconscious grimness in 
the prophetic humour which has dubbed this quarter of Valletta (two-and-a-half acres 
in area, peopled by 2,544 persons) "the place of cattle." Yet though the ninety-five 
square miles of the Maltese islands are about the most densely populated portions of 
the earth, the soil is so fertile, and the sources of employment, especially since the 
construction of the Suez Canal, so plentiful, that extreme penury is almost unknown, 
while the rural population seem in the happy mean of being neither rich nor poor. 

But the tourist who for the first time surveys Valletta from the deck of a 
Peninsular and Oriental Liner as she anchors in the Quarantine Harbour, or still 
better from the Grand Harbour on the other side of the peninsula on which the 
capital is built, sees little of this. Scarcely is the vessel at rest before she is 
surrounded by a swarm of the peculiar high-prowed " dghaisas," or Maltese boats, 
the owners of which, standing while rowing, are clamorous to pull the passenger 
ashore; for Malta, like its sister fortress at the mouth of the Mediterranean, does 
not encourage wharves and piers, alongside of which large craft may anchor and 
troublesome crews swarm when they are not desired. Crowds of itinerant dealers, 
wily people with all the supple eagerness of the Oriental, and all the lack of 
conscience which is the convenient heritage of the trader of the Middle Sea, establish 
themselves on deck, ready to part with the laces, and filigrees, and corals, and 
shells, and apocryphal coins of the Knights of St. John, for any ransom not less than 
twice their value. But in Malta, as elsewhere in the Mediterranean ports, there are 
always two prices, the price for which the resident obtains anything, and the price 



which the stranger is a^krd to pay. To these tariffs a new one has of late yeai's heen 
added, and this is that paradisaical figure, that fond legend of a golden age invoked 
only when the buyer is very eager, or very verdant, or very rich, "the price that 
Lady Brassey paid." However, even when the sojourner fancies that he has made a 
fair bargain (and the appraisements fall suddenly as the last bell begins to ring), the 
pedler is well in pocket, so well, indeed, that it has been calculated every steamer 
leaves behind it something like two hundred pounds in cash. 

But if the rubbish sold in Valletta can be bought quite as good and rather 
more cheaply in London, Valletta itself must be seen in situ. The entrance to 

Valletta, from the Grand Harbour. 

either of the harbours enables one to obtain but a slight idea of the place. It 
seems all forts and flat-roofed buildings piled one above the other in unattractive 
terraces. There are guns everywhere, and, right and left, those strongholds which are 
the final purposes of cannon. As the steamer creeps shrieking into " Port Marsa- 
Musciet" (the "Port" is superfluous, since the Arabic " Marsa " means the same thing) 
or Quarantine Harbour, it passes Dragut Point, with Fort Tigne on the right and Fort 
St. Elmo on the left, in addition to Fort Manoel and the Lazaretto on an island 
straight ahead. Had our destination been the Grand Harbour on the other side 
of Valletta, Fort Eicasoli and Fort St. Augelo would have been equally in evidence, 
built on two of the various projections which intersect the left side of that haven. 
But the forts are, as it were, only the ganglia of the vast systems of fortifications 



Bay of St. Paul, where St. Paul was wrecked. 

which circle every creek and bay and headland of Valletta and its offshoots. Ages 
of toil, millions of money, and the best talent of three centuries of engineers have 
been lavished on the bewildering mass of curtains and horn-works, and ravelins 
and demilunes, and ditches and palisades, and drawbridges and bastions, and 
earthworks, which meet the eye in profusion enough to have delighted the soul 
of Uncle Toby. Sentinels and martial music are the most familiar of sights and 
sounds, and after soldiers and barracks, sailors and war-ships, the most frequent 
reminders that Malta, like Gibraltar, is a great military and naval station. But it 
is also in possession of some civil rights unknown to the latter. Among these is a 
legislature with limited power and boundless chatter, and, what is of more importance 
to the visitor, the citizens can go in and out of Valletta at all hours of the day 
and night, no raised drawbridge or stolid portcullis barring their movements in times 
of peace. The stranger lands without being questioned as to his nationality, and in 
Malta the Briton is bereft of the Civis-llomaniis-sum sort of feeling he imbibes in 
Gibraltar ; for here the alien can circulate as freely as the lords of the soil. But 
the man who wishes to explore Valletta must be capable of climbing ; for from the 
landing place to the chief hotel in the main street the ascent is continuous, and 
for the first part of the way is by a flight of stairs. Indeed, these steps are so often 
called into requisition that one can sympathise with the farewell anathema of Byron 
as he limped up one of these frequent obstacles to locomotion, 

" Adieu ! ye cursed streets of stairs ! 
(How surely lie who mounts you swears)." 

The reason of this peculiar construction is that Valletta is built on the ridge of 
Mount Scebarras, so that the ascent from the harbour to the principal streets 



running along the crest of the hill is necessarily steep. The result is, however, a 
more picturesque town than would have been the case had the architect who laid out 
the town when Jean de La Valette, Grand Master of the Knights, resolved in 1566 
to transfer the capital here from the centre of the island, been able to find funds 
to form a plateau by levelling down the summit of the mound. Hence Valletta is 
composed of streets running longitudinally and others crossing the former at right 
angles. Most of these are eked out by steps ; one, the Strada Santa Lucia, is 
made up of nights of them, and none are level from end to end. The backbone 
of the town and the finest of its highways is the Strada Eeale, or Eoyal 
Street, which in former days was known as the Strada San Georgio, and 
during the brief French occupation as "the Street of the Eights of Man." Seven 
main streets run parallel with it, while eleven at right angles extend in straight 
lines across the promontory from harbour to harbour. The Strada Eeale, with 
the Strada Mercanti alongside of it, are, however, the most typical bits of the 
capital, and the visitor who conscientiously tramps through either, with a peep 
here and there up or down the less important transverse " strade," obtains a fail- 
idea of the city of La Valette, whose statue stands with that of L'Isle Adam 
over the Porta Eeale at the farther end of the street bearing that name. Here the 
first barrier to an invasion from the landward side is met with in the shape of a 
deep ditch hewn through the solid rock, right across the peninsula from the one 
harbour to the other, cutting off if necessary the suburb of Floriana from the 
town proper, though Floriana, with its rampart gardens, parade ground, and barracks, 
is again protected on the inland aspect by other of the great fortifications which 
circle the seashore everywhere. 

However, the drawbridge is down ai present, and a long stream of people, civil 
and military, are crossing and recrossing it, to and from the Strada Eeale. For 
this street is the chief artery through which is ever circulating the placid current of 
Valletteese life. Soldiers in the varied uniforms of the regiments represented in the 
garrison are marching backwards and forwards, to or from parade, or to keep watch 
on the ramparts, or are taking their pleasure afoot, or in the neat little covered 
" carrozzellas " or cabs of the country, in which, unlike those of Gibraltar of a similar 
build, a drive can be taken at the cost of the coin which, according to Sydney 
Smith, was struck to enable a certain thrifty race to be generous. Sailors from 
the war-ships in the Grand Harbour, and merchant seamen on a run ashore, are 
utilising what time they can spare from the grog shops in the lower town to 
see the sights of the place. Cabmen and carmen driving cars without sides, and 
always rushing at the topmost speed of their little horses, scatter unwary pedestrians. 
Native women, with that curious " faldetta," or one-sided hood to their black cloaks 
which is as characteristic of Malta as the mantilla is of Spain, pass side by side 

MALTA. 43 

with English ladies in the latest of London fashions, or sturdy peasant women, 
returning from market, get sadly in the way of the British nursemaid dividing her 
attention in unequal proportions between her infantile charges and the guard 
marching for " sentry-go " to the ramparts. Flocks of goats, their huge udders almost 
touching the ground, are strolling about to be milked at the doors of customers. 
Maltese labourers, brown little men, bare-footed, broad-shouldered, and muscular, in 
the almost national dress of a Glengarry cap, cotton trousers, and flannel shirt, with 
scarlet sash, coat over one arm, and little earrings, jostle the smart officers making 
for the Union Club, or the noisy " globe-trotter " just landed from the steamer which 
came to anchor an hour ago. A few snaky-eyed Hindoos in gaily embroidered caps 
invite you to inspect their stock of ornamental wares, but except for an Arab or two 
from Tunis, or a few hulking Turks from Tripoli with pilot jackets over their barracans, 
the Strada Eeale of Valletta has little of that human picturesqueness imparted to the 
Water-port Street of Gibraltar by the motley swarms of Spaniards, and Sicilians, and 
negroes, and Moors, and English who fill it all periods between morning gun-fire to the 
hour when the stranger is ousted from within the gates. Malta being a most religiously 
Koman Catholic country, priests and robe -girded Carmelites are everywhere plentiful, 
and all day long the worshippers entering and leaving the numerous churches, with the 
eternal "jingle-jingle" of their bells, remind one of Kabelais's description of England in 
his day. At every turning the visitor is accosted by whining beggars whose pertinacity 
is only eqiialled by that of the boot -blacks and cabmen, who seem to fancy that the 
final purpose of man in Malta is to ride in carrozzellas with shining shoes. In 
Gibraltar we find a relief to the eye in the great rock towering overhead, the 
tree-embosomed cottages nestling on its slopes, or the occasional clumps of palms in 
the hollows. These are wanting to the chief strada of Valletta In architectural 
beauty the two streets cannot, however, be compared. The Water-port is lined witli 
houses, few of which are handsome and most of which are mean, while the scarcity 
of space tends to crowd the narrow " ramps " as thickly as any lane in Valletta. 
It is seldom that the shops are better than those of a petty English town, and 
altogether the civil part of the rock fortresses has not lost the impress of having 
been reared by a people with but little of the world's wealth to spare, and kept 
alive by a population who have not a great deal to spend. 

The main street of Valletta on the other hand is lined by good, and in most 
cases by handsome, houses, frequently with little covered stone balconies which lend 
a peculiar character to the buildings. The yellow limestone is also pleasant to look 
upon, while the many palaces which the comfort-loving knights erected for their shelter, 
impart to Valletta the appearance of a " city built by gentlemen, for gentlemen." 
Here on the right is the pretty Opera House (open, in common with the private 
theatres, on Sunday and Saturday alike), and on the other side of the road the 



Auberge of the Language of Provence, now occupied by the Union Club. A little 
farther on, in an open space shaded with trees, is the Church of St. John, on 
which the knights lavished their riches, and still, notwithstanding the pillage of 
(he Frencli troops in 1798, rich in vessels of gold and silver, crosses, pixes, 
j.-uels, monuments, chivalric emblazonments, paintings, carveu stone and other 
ecclesiastical embellishments, though like the wealthy order of military monks, whose 
pride it was, the Church of St. John is ostentatiously plain on the outside. The 
Auberge d'Auvergue, now the Courts of Justice, is on the other side of the street, and 
hard by, a building which was formerly the Treasury of the Knights, the storehouse 
into which was gathered the contributions of the Commanderies throughout Europe. 
The Public Library, fronted by some trees a little way back from the road, is 

General View of Valletta: Entrance to the Grand Harbour. 

interesting from its containing the books of the Bailiff Louis de Tencin, the 
Grand Master de Rohan (who erected it), and of many of the more lettered knights, 
besides a good collection of the island antiquities. Close to it is the palace 
of the Grand Master, now the residence of the Governor, or in part utilised as 
Government offices. The courtyards, planted with oranges, euphorbias, hibiscus, and 
other greenery, and the walls covered with Bougainvillia, have a delightfully cool 
appearance to the pedestrian who enters from the hot street ; while the broad marble 
staircase, the corridors lined with portraits and men-at-arms, and pictures representing 
the warlike exploits of the knightly galleys, the armoury full of ancient weapons, and 
majolica vases from the Pharmacy, and the numerous relics of the former rulers of 
the island, are worthy of a long study by those interested in art or antiquity. The 
Council Chamber also merits a visit, for there may be seen the priceless hangings 
of Brussels tapestry. And last of all, the idlest of tourists is not likely to neglect 
the Hall of St. Michael and St. George, the frescoes celebrating the famous 















deeds of the Order of St. John, and the quaint clock in the interior court, which, 
according to Maltese legend, was brought from Rhodes when that island was abandoned 
after a resistance onl\ less glorious than a victory. For, as Charles V. exclaimed when 
he heard of the surrender which led to -Malta becoming the home of the knights, 
there has been nothing in the world so well lost as Rhodes." The main guard, 
with its pompous Latin inscription recording how " Magme et iuvictae Britanuiae 
Melitensium Amor et Europae vox Has insulas confirmant An. MDCCCXIV," is exactly 
opposite the palace. But when the visitor sees the wealth of art which the knights 
were forced to leave behind them, he is apt to be puzzled how the Maltese, who 
contributed not one baiocco to buy it, or to build these palaces or fortifications, 
could either through "Amor," or that necessity which knows no law, make them over 
to us, or how " Magna et invicta Britannia " could accept without compensation 
the property of the military monks, whose Order, bereft of wealth and influence, still 
exists and claims with the acquiescence of at least one court to rank among the 
sovereign Powers of Christendom. The knights are, however, still the greatest 
personalities in Malta. We come upon them, their eight-pointed cross, and their 
works at every step. Their ghosts still walk the highways. The names of the 
Grand Masters are immortalised in the cities they founded and in the forts they 

reared. Their portraits in the rude art of the Berlin lithographer hang on even the 

walls of the hotels. Their ecclesiastical side is in evidence by the churches which 

they reared, by the hagiological names which they gave to many of the streets, by 
the saintly figures with which, in spite of three-fourths of a century of Protestant 
rulers, still stand at the corners, and by the necessity which we have only recently 
found to come to an understanding with the Pope as to the limits of the canon 
law in this most faithful portion of his spiritual dominions. 

On the other hand, the secular side of the Order is quite as prominent. Here, 
for instance, after descending some steps which serve as a footpath, we come to 
the Fort of St. Elmo, which terminates the Strada Eeale. But long before there 
was any regular town on Monte Sceberras, when the capital was in the centre of 
the island, this fortress on the point midway between the two harbours was a place 
round which the tide of battle often swirled, when Paynim and Christian fought for 
the mastery of the island. Of all these sieges the greatest is that of 1505, a year 
before the town of Valletta was laid out. Twice previously, in 1546 and 1551, the 
Turks had endeavoured to expel the knights, but failed to effect a landing. But in the 
year mentioned Sultan Solyman The Magnificent, the same Solyman who thirty-four 
years before had driven them from llhodes, determined to make one supreme effort 
to dislodge the Order from their new home. The invading fleet consisted of a 
hundred and thirty-eight vessels under the Renegade Piali, and an army of thirty- 
three thousand men under the orders of Mustafa Pasha. These sea and land forces 

MALTA. 47, 

were soon afterwards increased by the arrival of two thousand five hundred resolute 
old Corsairs brought from Algiers by Hassan Pasha, and eighteen ships containing 
sixteen hundred men under the still more famous Dragut, the Pirate Chief of 
Tripoli, who, by the fortunes of war, was in a few years later fated to toil as 
a galley-slave in this very harbour. The siege lasted for nearly four months. 
Every foot of ground was contested with heroic determination until it was evident 
that Fort St. Elmo could no longer hold out. Then the knights, worn and 
wounded, and reduced to a mere remnant of their number, received the viaticum 
in the little castle chapel, and embracing each other went forth on the ramparts 
to meet whatever lot was in store for them. But St. Angelo and Senglea, at the 
end of the peninsula on which Isola is now built, held out until, on the arrival of 
succour from Sicily, the Turks withdrew. Of the forty thousand men who on the 
18th of May had sat down before the Castle, not ten thousand re-embarked ; 
whilst of the eight or nine thousand defenders, barely six hundred were able 
to join in the Te Deum of thanks for the successful termination of what was 
one of the greatest struggles in ancient or modern times. Then it was that 
"the most illustrious and most Reverend Lord, Brother John de la Valette," to 
quote his titles inscribed over the Porta Reale, determined to lay out the new 
city, so that, before twelve months passed, the primeval prophecy that there would 
be a time when every foot of land in Monte Sceberras would be worth an ounce 
of silver bade fair to come true. St. Elmo is still the chief of the island fortresses, 
and the little chapel which the knights left to fall under the Turkish scimitars is 
again in good preservation, after having been long forgotten under a pile of rubbrJi. 
But though churchmen and soldiers, the masters of Malta were, if all tales are true, 
a good deal more militaires than monks. Eye-witnesses describe the knights as they 
sailed on a warlike expedition waving their hands to fair ladies on the shore. 
In their albergos or barracks the " Languages " lived luxuriously, and though 
duelling was strictly prohibited, there is a narrow street, the Strada Stretta, 
running parallel with the Reale, in which this extremely unecclesiastical mode 
of settling disputes was winked at. For by a pleasant fiction, any encounter 
within its limits was regarded as simply a casual difficulty occasioned by two fiery 
gentlemen accidentally jostling each other ! 

Turning into the Strada Mercanti, the San Giacomio of a former nomenclature, 
we come upon more reminders of this picturesque brotherhood. For close by the 
Hospital for Incurables is the site of their cemetery, and farther up the steep street 
is the Military Hospital, which was founded by the Grand Master, Fra Luis de 
VasconQelos. This infirmary, as an old writer tells us, was in former days "the 
very glory of Malta." Every patient had two beds for change, and a closet with 
lock and key to himself. No more than two people were put in one ward, and 



these were waited upon by the " Serving Brothers," their food being brought to 
them on silver dishes, and everything else ordered with corresponding magnificence. 
Nowadays, though scarcely so sumptuous, the hospital is still a noble institution, one 
of the rooms, four hundred and eighty feet in length, being accounted the longest 
in Europe. But there are uo silver dishes, and the nurses have ceased to be of 
knightly rank. The University, an institution which turns out doctors with a celerity 
which accounts for the number of them in the island, is an even less imposing 
building than the public pawubroking establishment hard by, and neither is so note- 
worthy as the market, which is remarkable from a literary point of view as being 
perhaps the only edifice in Valletta the founder of which has been content to 
inscribe his merits in the vulgar tongue. On the top of the hill, for we have been 
climbing all the time, is a house with a fine marble doorway, which also is the relic 
of the knights. For this building was the Castellania, or prison, and the pillory in 
which prisoners did penance, and the little window from above which prisoners were 
suspended by the hands, are still, with the huge hook to which the rope was 
attached, to be seen by those who are curious in such disciplinary matters. But like 
the rock-hewn dungeons in which the knights kept their two thousand galley-slaves, in 
most cases Turks and Moors who had fallen in the way of their war-ships, which still 
exist in the rear of the Dockyard Terrace, such reminders of a cruel age and a stern 
Order are depressing to the wanderer in search of the picturesque. He prefers 


M.-ii-of-ll'ar in the Gran,/ Harbour of I'allclta. 



to look at the Auberge of the Language of Italy, where the Royal Engineers have 
their quarters, or at the Palazzo Parisi, opposite (it is a livery stable at present), 
where General Bonaparte resided during that brief stay in Malta which has served 
ever since to make the French name abhorred in the island, or at the Auberge 
de Castille, the noblest of all the knights' palaces, where the two scientific 
corps hold their hospitable mess. 

We have now tramped the entire length of the two chief longitudinal streets 

of Malta, and have seen most of the build- 
ings of much general interest. But in the 
Strade Mezzodi and Britannica there are 
many private dwellings of the best descrip- 
tion, and even some public ones, like the 

Auberge de France 
(devoted to the 
head of the Com- 
missariat Depart- 
ment), warrant ex- 
amination from a 
historical, if not 
from an architec- 
tural, point of 
view. All of these 
knightly hotels are 
worthy of notice. 
Most of them are 
now appropriated 
to the needs of 
Government offices 
or, like the Au- 
berge d'Arragou (an Episcopal residence), to the housing of local dignitaries. But 
whore tbe Auberge d'Allemagne once stood the collegiate church of St. Paul has 
been built, and if there ever was an Auberge d'Angleterre (for the language of 
England was suppressed when Henry VIII. confiscated the English Commanderies 
and was early succeeded by that of Bavaria), the building which bore the name of 
our country was levelled when the now theatre was built. It is nevertheless certain 
that the Turcopolier or General of the Horse was, until the Reformation, selected 
from the Language of England, just as that of Provence always furnished the Grand 
Commander, France the Grand Hospitaller, Italy the Admiral, Arr;igon the Drapier, 
Auvergne the Commander, Germany the Grand Bailiff, and Castile the Grand 


Isold Point, Malta. 


Chancellor of the Sovereign Order, whose Grand Master held among other titles those 
of Prince of Malta and Gozo. 

We are now at the Upper Barracca, one of those arcades erected as 
promenades hy the knights, and still the favourite walk of the citizens in the cool 
of morning and evening. From this point also is obtained a good bird's-eye view of 
Valletta and much of the neighbouring country, and if the visitor continues his walk 
to St. Andrew's Bastion he may witness a panorama of both harbours ; one, which 
the Maltese affirm (and we are not called upon to contradict them), is surpassed 
by the Bosphorus alone. It is at all events the most picturesque of the island 
views. There at a glance may be seen the two chief harbours alive with boats, 
sailing vessels, and steamers, from the huge ironclad to the noisy little launch. 
We then see that beside the main peninsula upon which Valletta is built, and which 
divides the Quarantine from the Grand Harbour, there are several other headlands 
projecting into these ports in addition to the island occupied by Fort Manoel and 
the Lazaretto. These narrow peninsulas cut the havens into a host of subsidiary 
basins, bays, and creeks, while Valletta itself has overflowed into the suburbs of 
Floriana, Sliema, and St. Julian, and may by-and-by occupy Tasbiesch and Pieta ; 
Bighi, where the Naval Hospital is situated, and Corradino, associated with gay memories 
of the racecourse, and the more sombre ones which pertain to the cemeteries and 
the prisons, all of which are centred in this quarter, where in former days the 
knights had their horse-breeding establishments and their game preserves. 

But there are certain suburbs of Valletta which no good Maltese will describe 
by so humble a name. These are the " Three Cities " of Vittoriosa and Senglea, 
built on the two peninsulas projecting into the Grand Harbour, and separated 
by the Dockyard Creek, and Burmola or Cosspicua, stretching back from the shore. 
These three " cities " are protected by the huge Firenzuola and Cottonera lines of 
fortifications, and as Fort Angelo, the most ancient of the Maltese strongholds, and 
Fort Ricasoli, recalling the name of its builder, are among their castles, they hold 
their heads very high in Malta. Indeed, long before Valletta was thought of, 
and when Notabile was seen to be unfitted for their purpose, the knights took 
up their residence in Borgo or the Burgh, which, as the Statue of Victory still 
standing announces, was dignified by the name of Citta Vittoriosa after their 
victory over the Turks. Strada Antico Palazzo del Governatore recalls the old 
Palace which once stood in this street, and indeed until 1571 this now poor town 
was the seat of Government. Antique buildings, like the Nunnery of Santa Scolastica, 
once a hospital, and the Inquisitor's Palace, now the quarters of the English garrison, 
are witnesses to its fallen dignity. Burmola is also a city of old churches, and 
Senglea, named after the Grand Master De la Sengle, though at present a place of 
little consequence, contains plenty of architectural proofs that when its old name 

MALTA. 51 

of " Chersoneso," or the Peninsula, was changed to Isola, or "The Unconqnered," 
this " city," with Fort Michael to do its fighting, played in Malta militant a part 
almost as important as it does nowadays when its dockyard and arsenal are its 
chief titles to fame. 

Turning our survey inland, we see from the Barracca a rolling country, whitish, 
dry, and uninviting, dotted with white rocks projecting ahove the surface ; white 
little villages, each with its church and walled fields ; and topping all, on the 
summit of a rising ground, a town over which rise the spires of a cathedral. This 
is Citta Vecchia, the " old city " as it was called when the capital was transferred 
to Valletta, though the people round ahout still call it by the Saracenic name 
of "Medina" (the town), the more modern designation of " Notabile " being due to 
a complimentary remark of Alfonso the Magnanimous, King of Castile. No town in 
Malta is more ancient. Here, we know from the famous oration of Cicero, that 
Verres, Praetor of Sicily, established some manufactories for cotton goods, out of 
which were made women's dresses of extraordinary magnificence, and here also 
the same voluptuous ruler did a reprehensible amount of plundering from temples and 
the " abodes of wealthy and honourable citizens." In their time-honoured capital the 
Grand Masters had to be inaugurated, and in its cathedral every Bishop of Malta 
must still be consecrated. But the glory of Notabile is its memories, for in all 
Christendom there is no more silent city than the one towards which we creep by 
means of the island railway which has of late years shortened the eight miles 
between it and Valletta. Every rood, after leaving the cave-like station hollowed 
out of the soft solid rock, and the tunnels under the fortifications, seems sleepier 
and sleepier. Every few minutes we halt at a white-washed shed hard by a white- 
washed " casal." And all the " casals " seem duplicates of each other. The white 
streets of these villages are narrow, and the people few. But the church is invariably 
disproportionately large, well built, and rich in decorations, while the shops in the 
little square are much poorer than people who support so fine a church ought to 
patronise. There is Hamrun, with its Apostolic Institute directed by Algerian 
missionaries, Misada in the valley, and Birchircara. Casal Curmi, where the cattle 
market is held, is seen in the distance, and at Lia and Balzan we are among the 
orange and lemon gardens for which these villages are famous. The San Antonio 
Palace, with its pleasant grounds, forms a relief to the eye. At Attard, " the village 
of roses," the aqueduct which supplies Valletta with the water of Diar Handur 
comes in sight, and then, at San Salvador, the train begins the steep pull which 
ends at the base of the hill on which Notabile is built. 

On this slope are little terraced fields and remains of what must at one time 
have been formidable fortifications. But all is crumbling now. A few of the Valletta 
merchants are taking advantage of the railway by building country houses, and some 


of the old Maltese noltilily dim,' to the town associated with their quondam 
glory. 13nt its decaying mansions with their mouldering coats of arms, palaces 
appropriated to prosaic purposes, ramparts from which for ages the clash of arms has 
departed, and streets silent except for the tread of the British soldiers stationed 

there or the mumble 
of the professional 
beggar, tell a tale of 
long-departed great- 
ness. A statue of 
Juno is embedded 
in the gateway, and 
in the shed - like 
museum have been 
collected a host of 
Phoenician, Eoman, 
and other remains 
dug out of the soil 
of the city. Maltese 
boys pester us to 
buy copper coins of 
the knights which 
are possibly honest, 
and their parents 
produce silver ones 
which are probably 

In Notabile it- 
self there is not, 
however, a great deal 
to look at, though 
from the summit of 
the Sanatorium, of 
old the Courts of 
Justice (and there 

are dreadful dungeons underneath it still), a glance may be obtained over the entire 
island. To the prosaic eye it looks rather dry to be the " Fior del Hondo," the 
flower of the world, as the patriotic Maltese terms the land which he leaves with 
regret and returns to with joy. There to the south lies Verdala Palace, and the 
Boschetto, a grove in much request for picnic parties from Valletta, and beyond both, 

C/iuirft of .SI. John, StraJa KcaU; I'alletla. 





Cilia Vuchia, or Notabile : The Old Capital of Malta. 

the Inquisitor's summer palace, close to where the sea spray is seen flying against the 
rugged cliffs. The Bingemma hills, thick with Phoenician tombs, are seen to the west, 
and if the pedestrian cares lie may visit the old rock fortress of Kala ta Bahria, 
Irntarfa, where stood the temple of Proserpine, and Imtahleb near the sea-shore, where 
in the season wild strawberries abound. Musta, with its huge domed church, is 
prominent enough to the north-east, while with a glass it is not difficult to make 
out Zabbar and Zeitun, Zurrico, Paola, and other villages of the south-eastern coast 
scattered through a region where remains of the past are very plentiful. For here 
are the ruins of the temples of Hagiar Khim and Mnaidra, rude prehistoric 
monuments, and on the shore of the Marsa Scirocco (a bay into which the hot 
wind of Africa blows direct), is a megalithic wall believed to be the last of the 
temple of Melkarte, the Tyrian Hercules. 

But in Notabile, far before Apollo and Proserpine, whose marble temples stood 
here, before even the knights, whose three centuries of iron rule have a singular 
fascination for the Maltese, there is a name very often in many mouths. And that 
is " San Paolo." Saint Paul is in truth the great man of Malta, and the people make 
very much of him. He is almost as popular a personage as Sir Thomas Maitland, 
the autocratic " King Tom," of whose benevolent despotism and doughty deeds also 
one is apt in time to get a little tired. Churches and streets and cathedrals are 
dedicated to the Apostle of the Gentiles, and from the summit of the Sanatorium a 
barefooted Maltese points out " the certain creek with a shore " in which he was 
wrecked, the island of Salmun, on which there is a statue of him, and the church 
erected in his honour. It is idle to hint to this pious son of Citta Vecchia that it is 
doubtful whether Paul was ever wrecked in Malta at all, that not unlikely the scene 


of that notable event was Melita, in the Gulf of Eagusa. Are there not hard by 
serpents turned into stone, if no living serpents to bite anybody, and a miraculous 
fountain which burst forth at the Apostle's bidding? And is not "the tempestuous 
wind called Euroklydon " blowing at this very moment? And in the cathedral 
we learn for the first time that Publius, on the site of wliose house it is built, 
became the first Bishop of Malta. For is not his martyrdom sculptured in marble, 
and painted on canvas ? And by-and-by we see the grotto in which St. Paul did 
three months' penance, though the reason is not explained, and over it the chapel 
raised to the memory of the converted Koman Governor, and not far away the 
Catacombs in which the early Christians sheltered themselves, though whether 
there is an underground passage from there to Valletta, as historians affirm, is a 
point in which our barefooted commentator is not agreed. 

All these are to him irreverent doubts. Notabile, with its cathedral, and 
convents, and monasteries, its church of St. Publius, the " stone of which never 
grows less," the seminary for priests, the Bishop's Palace and the Bishop's Hospital, 
is no place for scepticism touching Saint Paul and his voyages. Any such unbeliefs 
we had better carry elsewhere. The day is hot and the old city is somnolent, and 
the talk is of the past. At the wicket gate of the little station at the hill foot the 
engine is, at least, of the present. And as we slowly steam into Valletta, and emerge 
into the busy street, we seem to have leapt in an hour from the Middle Ages 
into the Nineteenth Century. The band is playing in the Palace Square, and the 
politicians are in procession over some event with which we as seekers after the 
picturesque are not concerned. But in Valletta we are in the land of living men. 
Behind us is a city of the dead, and around it lie villages which seem never to 
have been alive. 


The Road from Valletta to Citta I'ccchia. 

Piazza Maggiorc, Rarenna. 



HHRULY an uninteresting site that of Eavenna. All around one level plain ; not 
indeed endless, for here and there against the horizon rise the shadowy outlines 
of distant hills, the broken Apennines, the volcanic Euganeans, and the advanced 
bastions of the Alps themselves. Still, though these, whether faintly blue in the 
midday haze, or purple in the glory of the setting sun, are a wondrous relief to 
the monotony of the scene, they are all very far away ; nearer there is nothing to 
break the level of the horizon, except some structure reared by man and the 
long green line of pine-wood, which shuts out Ravenna from the eastern sea. On the 
plain itself trees are few, or at any rate small ; even houses and churches, in some 
directions, are but rarely seen. The vast plain behind Ravenna is a repetition, 
though on a larger scale, of the fen-land of England, with its dykes and its 
bank-defended rivers ; the soil is saturated with moisture ; water stands a few inches 
below the level of the ground ; in wet weather it may be spooned up with a 
ladle rather than dug with a spade. The land is a great delta, built up by the 
Po and many a minor stream from the spoils of the distant Alps and Apennines 
in the shallow waters of the Adriatic. Time was, and that not so many 
centuries since, when the tide ebbed and flowed where now the fields stand 


thick with corn ; the sea-gulls screamed and fished where now birds sing in 
the branches of the pines. The story of Ravenna is one of the most remarkable 
of the growth of deltas and of the silent changes which occur near the frontier of 
land and sea. The town existed in the days of the Roman Republic, though it 
was not then a place of much importance ; but Augustus selected it as the head- 
quarters of the Adriatic fleet, improved its communications by land and water, and 
constructed a new harbour at a place nearly three miles distant, which still retains 
the name of Classis. The sea is now, roughly speaking, six miles away. At that 
time Ravenna was more like Venice or Amsterdam at the present day. It was 
intersected by canals in which the tide ebbed and flowed ; and so, though sometimes, 
as it was said satirically, good wine was cheaper than good water, it was regarded as 
such a healthy place that gladiators went there for training. A continuous suburb, 
the nearer part of which bore the name of Cesarea, joined Classis to Ravenna ; and 
for some three centuries it prospered greatly, and was considered to be so strong 
in its defences, natural and artificial, that when the northern barbarians began to 
threaten Italy, the Emperor Honorius, in the year 402, removed his court to Ravenna. 
But year by year the land gained upon the sea ; the channels leading up to the quays 
of Ravenna and the basins of Classis became more shallow ; streets replaced canals, 

and cattle grazed where ships had ridden at anchor. The coast-line steadily 


advanced eastwards ; Cesarea has been swept away, though a small column marks 
the site of its grand old church, which was barbarously destroyed in the sixteenth 
century. Of the shops and counting-houses of Classis nothing remains, except that 
its church still rises in solitary grandeur among the marshes. Within the walls 
of Ravenna Honorius was safe. Alaric the Goth, Genseric the Vandal, and the 
usurper Ricimer, in turn sacked the imperial city, but Ravenna remained unconquered, 
and did not open its gates "to the invader till the Western empire had fallen and 
the diminutive successor of Romulus and Augustus had done homage to the warlike 
chief of the Pomeranian Herules. 

Then for a time Ravenna had its share in the common lot of Italy. Near the end 
of the century it was surrendered to Theodoric the Ostrogoth, who made it his chief 
residence and thus restored to it much of its ancient splendour. For some ninety 
years it was the home of the Gothic kings, and then, after it had opened its gates to 
Belisarius, became the abode of the exarch of the Emperor of the East. Under that 
potentate it remained until the middle of the eighth century, when, after changing 
masters once or twice, it was handed over to the Pope. For full four centuries it 
formed part of the States of the Church. Then it was governed by rulers of its own, 
until it passed, shortly before the middle of the fifteenth century, under the power of 
Venice; but it was recovered by Julius II. in 1509, and, with one interval, continued 
to be part of the Papal dominions until it was incorporated into the kingdom of Italy. 



Ravenna is a town "absolutely unique in its character and interests; " it is "the 
only town where we are met at every step by the works of Christian Emperors, Gothic 
Kings, and Byzantine Exarchs. Of those strange and dark and unhappy centuries in 
which the old world was shaped into the new, Ravenna has the monuments almost 
wholly to herself. They all come within less than a hundred and fifty years of 
each other, and yet they fall naturally into three periods. First corne the 
monuments of the Christian Western Empire, the churches and tombs of the family 
of Honorius. Next come the works of the Gothic kingdom, the churches and the 
mausoleum of Theodoric. Next come the buildings, San Vitale among the foremost, 
which are later than the recovery of Italy by Justinian. It is well that there 
should be one spot from which the monuments of heathen Rome and mediaeval 
Christendom are alike absent, and where every relic breathes of the strange and 
almost forgotten time which comes between the two." We can see in Ravenna, still 
but little changed, the churches in which the con- 
temporaries of Gregory and of Augustine worshipped, 
which had long ceased to be new in the days of 
Bede the Venerable and Theodore of Canterbury. 
Their mosaics bring before our eyes the dress and 
the dwellings of the men of those ages ; of whose 
sculptured sepulchres they are full. Nowhere else 
can we enter so 
fully into the 
every - day reli- 
gious thought of 
times of which 
in our own land 
scarce any out- 
ward visible trace 

Yet, notwith- 
standing its trea- 
sures of architec- 
ture and art, it 

must be admitted that at first sight Ravenna is rather a disappointing town. Placed 
on a plain as flat as a Cambridgeshire fen, it has neither beauty nor picturesqueness 
of situation. Its houses are comparatively modern in aspect, and for the most part 
thoroughly commonplace. It presents the aspect of a fairly thriving but rather sleepy 
Italian town of moderate size. It does not admit of any comparison with Verona 
or Padua, far less with Venice or Florence. The streets are not narrow enough 


Church of St. Apottinare A'aoz'a. 


to be picturesque, nor wide enough to be splendid. The houses are unattractive, 
and the gardens, which in some parts of the town occupy a considerable space, 
are completely shut in by high walls; thus the buildings of chief interest are by no 
means conspicuous; they are often huddled away in back lanes, and liave to be hunted 
out, instead of forming centres for converging streets or being bordered by open 
squares. Yet, more, the first sight of one of the churches which have made Ravenna 
famous produces a sense of disappointment. Brick is almost the only material which 
lias been employed in the construction of the exterior; and brick that has been exposed 
to the weather for quite a dozen centuries and which from the first was not a 
highly -finished product of the mason's art is apt to assume a rather rough and 
shabby aspect. The architects do not seem to have cared for such external 
adornment as can be obtained even with this material. The windows are small and 
not numerous, the arches are not recessed ; in short, the exterior of the churches at 
llaveuna has always been extremely plain. A portico at the western entrance, and 
the lofty circular campaniles, are usually the only attempts to relieve the general 
monotony of the design. The architects reserved themselves for the interior of 
their buildings, and often, as we pass beneath the heavy curtain which falls over the 
doorway, we stand almost startled by the sudden change from poverty to magnificence. 
In this brief account it is useless to attempt a full description of the antiquarian 
treasures which are embedded like gems in dross among the commonplace houses 
of Kavenna. A few only of the more conspicuous or interesting can be mentioned. 
In the centre of the town is the Piazza Maggiore, the one exception to the general 
charge of unpicturesqueness which we have ventured against Ravenna. In form it 
is a slightly irregular oblong. At the western end rise two granite columns crowned 
by statues ; these were erected some four centuries since by the Venetians, but brought 
in all probability from certain Roman ruins. On one side certain houses rest on an 
ancient colonnade, a relic of olden times attributed by some to Theodoric, by others 
to a yet earlier epoch, and the other buildings around the piazza are more varied in 
age and design than is usual in Ravenna. Besides this, of the memorials not strictly 
ecclesiastical, if we except the house once inhabited by Lord Byron and afterwards 
by Garibaldi, there are but three to be noticed, one palace and two tombs. The 
first is only a ruined fragment, a portion of a facade with a round-headed gateway 
and a simple arcade above, but it was the dwelling of the famous Ostrogoth, Theodoric 
the Great, "the barbarian conqueror who gave Italy thirty years of such prosperity 
as she never saw for ages before or after." There is a difference as to the exact 
date of the structure which remains, some good judges regarding it as rather later 
than the era of Theodoric ; others, however, see no reason for doubt, and that 
it formed a part of his palace is beyond question. It was practically made a ruin 
by Charles the Great, who carried away the marbles and other valuables to adorn 


his palace and church at Aachen. Theodoric's sepulchre, one of the two mentioned 
above, lies among the gardens and vineyards a few hundred yards away from the 
city walls. Happily it has come down to our days with but little injury, and 
of itself would repay a long journey to Kavenna. It is wholly built of the pure 
limestone of Dalmatia, almost worthy to be called a marble. In plan the building 
is a decagon, the lower stage consisting of a massive arched wall, the upper being 
a circular structure of less diameter. This is crowned by one block of Istrian 
limestone nearly twelve yards across, which is wrought into a shallow flattened 
dome. The upper storey is lighted by small windows and entered by a large door. 
Formerly it was surrounded by a colonnade, which consisted of round-headed 
arches, supported by light pillars resting on the wall of the lower storey ; these, which 
must have greatly enriched the structure, have unfortunately perished. The actual 
site of Theodoric's sarcophagus is a matter of doubt. Some assert that the square 
top of the monolithic dome supported an urn in which his ashes were laid. It is, 
however, hardly probable that a structure of this kind would be designed merely 
for a pedestal. In any case the body would be placed in a sarcophagus, either 
of marble, like that in which reposes the daughter of Honorius, or of red porphyry, 
like that which may be seen built into the wall of Theodoric's palace, and is now 
traditionally assigned as his resting place ; this would, in all probability, be placed 
either in the lower or the upper chamber. Considering all the circumstances, I 
should expect that the latter was the actual mortuary chapel. But wherever the 
tomb was, it proved no lasting shelter. Theodoric was an Arian, and thus he was 
obnoxious to the orthodox ; moreover, he was said to be meditating a persecution at 
the time of his death, and beyond doubt he had begun his reign by one crime, 
the assassination of Odoacer, and near its close had put to death two illustrious 
men (one his own father-in-law) on a charge probably false. Thus little doubt was 
felt as to his doom ; so, when the orthodox became masters, Theodoric's dust was 
ejected and his tomb became Santa Maria della Eotonda. But this structure is 
not only remarkable for its architecture. We may reasonably suppose that when it 
was erected the floor of the basement storey would be at least on the level of the 
ground. It is now ten or eleven feet below this ! So, during the period which has 
elapsed since the completion of the monument, the soil has accumulated to this 
' amount by repeated floodings. 

The other tomb belongs to the first of the three periods mentioned by Professor 
Freeman, and is older than that of Theodoric by more than three-quarters of a 
century. This still contains the ashes of Galla Placidia, daughter of Honorius, 
of her second husband, and of one son. No two buildings could well present 
greater contrasts. This one, instead of Istrian limestone, is built of rough brick ; 
externally it is a plain, almost mean, structure, but internally it is encrusted with 



mosaics, still for the most part in excellent preservation; its sepulchres also are 
inviolate. Galla Placidia was entombed in a marble sarcophagus, sitting, like Charles 
the Great at Aachen, in her robes of state. The body could formerly be seen 
through a hole in the sarcophagus, but in 1577 the robes were accidentally ignited 
and it was thus reduced to ashes. Eight and left are placed the smaller tombs of her 
Roman husband Constautius, and his Roman sou Valentinian. " Of all the Caesars 

of East and West, till the 
Imperial sceptre passed aw;i\ 
into Northern hands, they 
alone lie in glory, every 
one in his own house." 
The urn of Trajan has dis- 
appeared from his column ; 
the ashes of Hadrian and 
of the Antonines from the 
mausoleum which is now 
the Castle of St. Angelo ; 
the "porphyry" sarcophagus 

of Helena adorns the mu- 


seum of the Vatican ; but 
here, in Ravenna, the family 
of Theodosius the Great has 
been left to rest in peace. 

The Mausoleum, which 
now bears the name of St. 
Nazario e Celso, was built 
shortly after the death of 
Galla Placidia, and most 
probably was completed be- 
fore the year 450. In plan it is a Latin cross, forty-nine by forty-one feet, with a low 
central dome. The ceiling and the walls above the marble dado are covered with 
mosaics, figures, and arabesques in gold and in various tints on a ground of rich 
ultramarine blue ; the colour harmony is often excellent, and the designs are 
frequently very good ; for instance, it would be difficult to surpass the figure of 
the Good Shepherd which is over the entrance door ; coarse as the material 
necessarily is, the artist has succeeded in giving to the face an expression of 
singular tenderness. The sarcophagus of Galla is massive rather than handsome, 
and is inferior in execution to many others in Ravenna. It is placed at the head 
of the cross opposite the entrance. Those also of her son and Imsband are not 

Street in Ravenna, 



remarkable ; each occupies an arm of the cross. Built into the wall, on either 
side of the entrance, are two other tombs ; one contains the body of Valeutinian's 
tutor, the other that of the instructor of his sister Honoria. But in front of the 
sarcophagus of Galla stands a very fine altar of transparent oriental alabaster. It 
was removed to this place from the neighbouring church of San Vitale, but is older 
than the sixth century. 

Of the first architectural period, that of the Christian emperors, there are but 

Mausoleum of (Jalla Placidia.. 

few other buildings in Ravenna. Some parts, especially the columns of the church 
of St. Giovanni Battista, belong to that erected by Galla Placidia, but the greater 
portion is of more recent date. The baptistry of the cathedral was built a few 
years after her death, and still remains in excellent preservation. Externally, like 
her monument, it is a simple brick structure, but is octagonal in form. Internally 
it is adorned with slabs and columns of cipollino marble and encrusted with 
mosaics which are hardly less beautiful than those in the mausoleum of Galla. In 
the dome the baptism of Christ is depicted, at which the Jordan, personified as 
a river god, is an onlooker ; a curious survival of pagan symbolism in Christian art, 
though by no means the only instance of this kind, for old superstitions and errors 
die hard, and nineteen centuries have not wholly purged Christianity from the 


taints of earlier creeds. Below there is a band of mosaics representing structural 
work, which, as usual, is the least satisfactory part of the whole design; the part 
beneath this is mostly occupied by scroll-work or arabesque patterns, which often are 
wonderfully graceful. Here also the same rich blue is largely employed in the 
grounding, with cubes of gold, green, grey, white, red, and other colours. In the 
middle stands the huge marble bath, adorned with slabs of porphyry, in which the baptised 
were immersed. The original cathedral was earlier by some years than this baptistry, 
but it was unfortunately rebuilt in the latter part of the seventeenth century. The 
present structure is a fair but uninteresting specimen of Renaissance work ; but it 
retains the ancient columns, besides some sarcophagi and other curious relics of olden 
times. The original round campanile also remains, but this probably is not earlier, 
and perhaps is even later, than the days of the exarchs. But the adjoining palace 
of the archbishop still contains a very precious remnant of the earliest period, a 
little chapel which, as usual, is lined with marble and mosaics, and is in excellent 
preservation. This also was completed by the year 450, and so is practically 
contemporaneous 'with the mausoleum, of Galla Placidia. 

Of the next period it will suffice to describe one church ; St. Apollinare 
Nuovo, built by Theodoric, about the year 500. The campanile, as is almost 
invariably the case in Eavenna, is round, and its date uncertain. While some 
authorities regard these towers, which are usually detacb'ed, as contemporaneous 
with the churches (that is, in the more important cases, as works of the fifth and 
sixth centuries), others consider them to be later than the ninth century, Professor 
Freeman even saying, " We shall not dispute if any one assign them to the eleventh 
and twelfth." Certainly there is more elegance in the design and finish in 
execution than appear in the massive walls and plain architecture of the churches. 
Still, the capitals in the naves of the latter indicate that the architects of the 
earlier period were by no means insensible to beauty, and it seems strange that 
these additions should be so general. 

Of the date of the church, however, there can be no doubt, though the 
mosaics which are its chief glory are considered to be, at any rate in great part, 
a little later than the days of Theodoric. It is an oblong basilica, with large 
central nave and wide aisles, the walls of the former being supported by arches, 
which spring from impost blocks, resting on richly carved capitals of rather classic 
pattern, supported by pillars of cipollino marble. At the eastern end, as usual, there 
is a great apse ; but in this case a rectangular compartment intervenes between the 
large eastern arch and the commencement of the apse, thus forming an ordinary 
chancel, a feature very rare in buildings of this early date. In one of the chapels 
is a remarkable mosaic portrait of Justinian, together with an ancient episcopal 
throne and some curious fragments of earlier structures, but those are not the most 


marvellous feature in St. Apollinare Nuovo. Beneath the clerestory and above the 
arches on either side, where in a more modern church we should expect to find a 
triforium, runs a continuous hand of mosaics depicting a procession of saintly figures, 
probably seven or eight feet high. On the south side are men, on the north women; 
the one proceeding from a mass of buildings representing the city of Ravenna, with 
the church of St. Vitale and the palace of Theodoric ; the other from the suburb 
of Classis, with its harbour. At the head of the latter company we find the three 
wise men of the East bringing gifts to the infant Saviour, who is seated on 
his mother's knee, with his hand raised in the attitude of benediction, two angels 
standing on either side. He also appears, of full age, with the same attendants, at 
the head of the other procession. The women wear white robes adorned with gold, 
the men are mostly vested in an under-garment of white with purple stripes, and 
an upper robe of white or brown. Each carries a crown, and between each is a 
palm-tree. The expression of the faces is remarkably varied ; but it is always 
tender and placid. Seldom have I seen anything more impressive than these grand 
processions of glorified figures which for some thirteen centuries have looked down 
with calm faces and peaceful eyes on the worshippers below as they came and went, 
at last to their own place. Through times of festivity or of mourning, of triumph 
or of defeat, insensible alike to the sound of joy or the noise of war in the gate, 
the pictured forms of those who had fought the good fight have stood, fit emblems 
of the eternal peace which ends at last the hurly-burly of this transitory life. 

Yet one other church in Ravenna must be noticed, that dedicated to St. Vitale, 
which was begun the year after the death of Theodoric and consecrated in 547, so 
that in the main it may be regarded as representative of the third period, that of the 
Byzantine Exarchs. Though it has suffered much of late from restorers, it is a very 
noble and still a very interesting structure. It is often said to be an imitation of 
Justinian's church of Sta. Sophia, though in reality it is slightly the older of the 
two. But Fergusson and Freeman both agree in regarding it as modelled on a Roman, 
not on a Byzantine, type. The plan is a little complicated, but the church in the 
main is externally an octagon, within which is a central circular drum supporting 
a dome, the former being a hundred and ten feet, the latter fifty feet, in diameter. 
The most remarkable feature is the internal apses which are applied to each of 
the great arches supporting the drum, excepting that which leads to the sacrarium. 
These apses are divided into two stages, the upper one opening into the great gallery 
which forms the upper storey of the octagonal ambulatory. These are intended to 
help in resisting the outward thrust of the dome, which, in order to diminish the 
pressure, is constructed of hollow earthenware jars. The capitals of some of the 
columns are marvels of rich design and elaborate execution, and the church is fi;ll 
of interesting relics, not the least among these being the superb mosaics of the 



choir, in which -lustiniiin and his consort Theodora arc represented in the act of 
offering gifts. Tliere can he little doubt that these are actual, though necessarily 
rather rough, portraits of these noted and notorious personages. 

But we must linger no longer within the walls of Itavenna, though the half of 
its wonders has hardly yet been told. The sarcophagi alone, belonging to the earlier 
centuries of Christian art, might well detain the antiquary for days, and the mosaics 

incidentally throw a flood of light 
on many questions which are 
agitating the Church of England 
at the present day ; but there is 
one tomb which everyone goes to 
see, and then almost wishes he 
had left unvisited. This is the 
tomb of Dante, who died at 
Ravenna. It is "a little cupola 
more neat than solemn" (in fact, 
rather mean, and anything but 
impressive in design), which was 
erected full a century and a half 
after the poet's death, and looks, 
after more than one restoration, 
still more modern. It has a 
stuccoed, shoddy aspect, more 
appropriate to the memorial of 
some eighteenth - century mayor 
of Ravenna than of one of the 
greatest among the poets and the 
sons of Italy. 

No one, however, will leave 
Ravenna without making at least 
one excursion to visit the church 
of St. Apollinare in Classe and the famous pine-forest. On the way to the former 
we learn thoroughly to appreciate the scenery of the delta and the changes 
which nineteen centuries have effected. But a paragraph from Mr. T. A. Trollope's 
description so accurately conveys my own impressions that I shall make no excuse 
for quoting it. After speaking of the trees and gardens round the city, which, when 
over-topped by the campaniles and occasional domes, form a picture not without a 
certain beauty, he continues : 

'Very soon the trees cease, and there are no more hedgerows. Large, flat 

Tomb of JJan/c. 



The Baptistry, Ravenna. 

fields, imperfectly covered with coarse, rank grass, and divided by numerous branches 
of streams, all more or less dyked to save the land from complete inundation, succeed. 
The road is a causeway, raised above the level of the surrounding district ; and 
presently a lutge, lofty bank is seen traversing the desolate scene for miles, and 
stretching away towards the shore of the neighbouring Adriatic. This is the dyke 
which contains the sulkily torpid but dangerous Montone. Gradually, as the traveller 
proceeds, the scene grows worse and worse. Soon the only kind of cultivation to 
be seen from the road consists of rice-grounds, looking like, what in truth they are, 
poisonous swamps. Then come swamps pure and simple (too bad perhaps to be 
turned into rice-grounds), or rather, simply swamps impure, for a stench at most 
times of the year comes from them, like a warning of their pestilential nature and 
their unfitness for the sojourn of man. A scene of more utter desolation it is hardly 
possible to meet with in such close neighbourhood to a living city." 

Less than a mile beyond the gate from which we have emerged, we pass a 
little column, the last indication of the ancient suburb of Cesarea. Some two miles 
away from the road another landmark of ancient history rises conspicuously above the 
marshes on the left. This is the church of St. Maria in Porto Fuori, a basilica 
erected by a Bishop of Kavenna at the end of the eleventh century. Even at this 
distance the singular form of the campanile cannot fail to attract notice, as the lower 



part seems so much ruder and more massive than the upper one. The former, in 
fact, is a portion of a much older building, an ancient tower which is believed 
to have been a lighthouse; if so, it must mark the position of one of the ancient 
harbours of Ravenna. 

The church of St. Apollinare in Classe, in its strange contrast between the 
present and the past, in its lonely solitude ou the wide plain, is almost as impressive 
as the Temples of Psestum. This fever-stricken fen once a busy sea-port town? Yes, 
for how else should so grand a pile have been built, where only a few peasants could 
be gathered to worship, or perchance once or twice in a year pilgrims could come 
from the city to venerate the spot where one of its earliest martyrs received his crown ? 
Externally the basilica, like those in Kavenua, is very plain, though a certain relief is 
given to the walls by a series of plain shallow arches, which are occasionally pierced 
for windows; these, as is common in the churches of Italy, being less conspicuous 
features than in those of England. The material, of course, is brick, and there is, 
as usual, a round campanile separate from the church. This, from some points of 
view, forms with it a pleasing group. At the western end there is a covered porch, also 
a common feature, but here it is larger than usual, and extends even beyond the wails 
of the nave so as to mask its western end. This, however, is so ruinous and so much 

injured by repeated patching that it is difficult to determine what was the original 


design. But the interior, as in the other church dedicated to the same saint, effaces 
all memory of the poverty of the exterior. The two in their main outlines are very 
similar, but this is on a grander scale. We have not here, indeed, those superb 
processions of figures in mosaic above the arches of the nave ; their place is taken, 
and inadequately, by a series of medallions containing portraits of bishops and 
archbishops of Ravenna ; but we find the usual plan of nave and aisles, the usual 
colonnades of splendid cipolliuo pillars, the usual carved capitals and impost blocks 
from which the arches spring, the simple clerestory and the open roofs. But there 
is a difference at the eastern end ; here the great arch, as was the more ancient 
fashion, opens at once into an apse, and a flight of steps leads up to the high altar ; 
for beneath this is a crypt in which the relics of St. Apollinaris the Martyr were 
enshrined. Its floor is a yard or so below that of the church, which, however, has 
been raised as usual, so that the bases of the columns are partially concealed. The 
church seems to me to gain rather than to lose in grandeur by the absence of the 
space between the apse and the great choir-arch, and the effect is certainly enhanced 
by the ascent to the high altar. When the harbours of Classis were busy, when its 
merchants and work-folk came hither in throngs, this basilica must have been a grand 
sight. Now it is empty, desolate, and damp, a green conferva stains the walls, 
stagnant water covers the floor of the crypt. It is a vast empty temple, priests and 
worshippers alike gone, yet perhaps all the more impressive, though very saddening, 


in its loneliness. I count St. Apollinare in Classe one of the grandest churches that 
I have ever seen. Perhaps no one takes greater delight than myself in the exquisite 
grace, the ceaseless and harmonious combinations, and the ever-changing beauty of 
the cathedrals of England and of France, with their transepts and side-chapels, their 
clustered shafts and vaulted roofs, the intricate tracery of their windows, and the 
richness of their long arcades ; in a word, in the so-called Gothic buildings, the legacy 
of the later Middle Ages ; yet I never enter one of these grand basilicas, memorials 
of the earlier centuries of the Christian Church, without a sense of solemn awe. 
The later Romanesque work, Norman as we call it, produces a similar effect, but 
St. Apollinare differs from Norwich Cathedral as it does from Salisbury. To compare 
art with nature, in Lincoln or in Westminster, in Amiens or in Eheims, feelings 
are prodiiced like those raised by the outlook from the western slopes of the Malvern 
Hills, or from the folds of the Apennines above the valley of the Arno ; while in 
the ancient basilicas of Ravenna and of Rome I stand overpowered as in view of 
the crags of the Matterhoru or the glaciers of Mont Blanc. 

As nineteenth century architects do not seem capable of originality except in 
ugliness, and for ecclesiastical purposes restrict themselves to the reproductions of 
buildings which are more suitable for a ritual, which indeed has a significance in 
an unreformed church, but is only a survival, not always beneficial, in our own, 
one cannot help wishing that they would attempt to copy some of these earlier 
structures. They would satisfy the most rigid Protestant, for in them one can both 
see and hear. They would satisfy the most utilitarian spirit, for so little space is 
wasted and all decoration contributes to the general effect. They are adapted also 
for mosaics and work in marble, the best forms of decoration in an English climate, 
and especially in our smoky towns. They ought to satisfy the most Catholic 
aspirations, for they preserve the ecclesiastical arrangements of ages when even the 
"use of Sarurn " w r as unknown, and anterior even to the separation of the Eastern 
and Western churches. 

But all the while, as we are on our way to St. Apollinare, indeed in every 
outlook from the towers of Ravenna, our eyes have been attracted by one constant 
feature, that long, low line of greenwood which shuts out the gleaming waters of the 
Adriatic. North and south it stretches as far as we can see, a welcome relief, 
though itself slightly monotonous, to the greater monotony of the level fen-land. 
This is the ancient Pinetum, La Pineta, the great pine forest, the " immemorial 
wood" which is inseparable in thought from Ravenna, which is linked with memories 
of Dante and Boccaccio, of Dryden and of Byron. 

It is a singular contrast to pass from the malarious swamps to the pure, 
scented odours of the forest, where the fever-stricken peasants can breathe for 
a while a fresher air, as they gather those huge piles of sticks beneath the burden 








of which we meet them staggering, as a " moving wood," hut for the most part 
home by women, doth come in single file along the hanks of the canals. No 
change could he greater. The soil is a clean sand, sometimes, as at the south, 
containing small pebbles ; the surface is irregular, the ground is thickly covered 
with forest herbage and brushwood, junipers and thorny plants. The stone-pines, 
as every one knows who has visited Italy, are very like our Scotch firs ; there 
is the same crown of spreading branches, though of a less sombre green, the 
same straight bare boles of ruddy tint. Again and again one's thoughts are 
carried back from the Adriatic shore to the fir- woods of Surrey, and it must be 
admitted that Charles Kingsley's winter garden does not suffer by the comparison, 
for he showed me grander trees in the woods of Eversley than I found in the 
forests of Eavenna. 

What is the age of this " immemorial wood " we do not know. It begins at 
Cervia, about fifteen miles south of Kavenna, and extends northward, after a 
break of a few furlongs, it is said, for some five-and-twenty miles, the breadth 
varying from one to three miles. The site, where I have seen it, is evidently 
either a mass of blown sand, hardly high enough to be termed a line of dunes, 
or an ancient " bar " elevated above the sea by an upward movement of the coast. 
But of any change in the latter direction we have no proof in the times covered by 
written history. We should expect that, as the forest fringes the shore, the "Adrian 
wave flowed over " its site in the days of Theodoric, but we find a mention of its 
existence at that time. Not improbably the difficulty may be explained by looking 
farther north ; there, in the neighbourhood of Venice, we find that the mainland is 
bordered by a broad zone of islands. Eavenna may have been founded, like the other 
city, upon the inner and more thickly congregated members of the group, which, 
however, in the days of Augustus were no longer, as is still the case at Venice, 
parted from the mainland by a wide lagoon. Thus Eavenna has been incorporated 


with the delta by a process which is still going on in the neighbourhood of Mestre, 
and the pine-woods may have first sprung up many centuries since on the drifted 
sand upon the seaward margin of a chain of islands, similar to that which still 
extends northward from the old town of Chioggia up to and beyond the Lido. 

North of Ravenna is Comacchio, a curious old town, curiously situated. It 
stands on an island, almost connected with a strip of land which prolongs the 
regular line of the coast from the mouths of the Savio and Eonco till the Po 
discharges its waters through more than one channel to the sea and has thus 
constructed a great projecting angle of muddy land. But on the western side of 
this sandy strip is a vast expanse of water, the lagoons of Comacchio, a repetition 
on a yet larger scale of the more familiar lagoons of Venice. There is now but 
one communication between these and the Adriatic. They are interrupted by narrow 
islands, mud-banks rising above the waters, on one of which the town is built. In 
parts, a map of them looks almost like a spider's web. The sketch shows the 
approach to Comacchio along one of these, where road and canal run parallel and 
form one long isthmus. The lagoons are quite shallow, generally not more than six 
feet deep, but their fisheries have been noted since the Middle Ages, and still furnish 
numbers of eels and of grey mullet. Nets, ingeniously contrived, prevent the fish 
from escaping seawards, and make the lagoons one vast preserve. 


Comacchio itself is an old-world spot, for its fisheries are named by Tasso and 
Ariosto, but it makes no figure in history. Half cut off as it is from the world, it 
has retained its peculiar habits of life, and through all political changes, even when 
fortified and held by an Austrian garrison, has remained essentially a towoi of 
fishermen. This occupation, and the manufacture of salt, gives employment to its 
inhabitants as well as to those of the neighbouring islets ; the commune numbering, 
it is said, about nine thousand in all. Strange to say, the district is said to be 
healthy ; these delta lands only becoming malarious when the sea ceases to flow in 
their channels and the district becomes a fresh-water marsh. 

The annexed group of sketches gives a good idea of this picturesque town, which, 
however, lends itself to the pencil more than to the pen, for it has no story to 
tell and no special attraction for the visitor ; it is quaint and picturesque, with its 
towers and campaniles, its gateways and its churches. Some of the last are old 
and interesting, but of no exceptional mark. It has also an old castle, at one 
end of the island, but this has been dismantled ; at the other end is a Capuchin 
convent. Its fishing-boats are also picturesque, but that is the case everywhere in 
these lagoons. 

Rimini, to the south of Ravenna, consists of an old town and a new ; the former- 
lying about a mile from the sea, the latter growing up as a smart suburb by the 
water-side, frequented in summer by bathers. It ought to prosper, for Rimini is 


the first accessible spot south of Venice which presents the slightest attraction to 
anyone but an antiquarian, and, even at the latter, one must go some distance to 
get clear of city sewage or near to the open sea. True, the actual situation of 
Kimini is not particularly attractive, but the same might be said of such favourite 
resorts as Blackpool or of Southport in our own land. There is, however, a good 
beach, and though the shore is still flat, the hill country is now drawing nearer 
to the sea, and the Apennines with their broken outlines form a grand background 
to the rich lowland plain. One of the spurs of this range is the site of a 
curious survival of olden days, the republic of San Marino, noted as the smallest 
in the world. 

The old town of Eimini is full of interest, and of beggars. If prizes were 
given for the human gadfly, and due allowance made for its size, Kimini would 
probably take the first place among the towns on the western Adriatic ; and this 
is saying a good deal. In early times it must have been a town of considerable 
defensive strength, notwithstanding the level site, for on either side a river flows 
into the sea. Kimini is a place of great antiquity, for it existed long before 
the surrounding country came under the power of Koine. The Umbrians are said 
to have been its founders ; next it became an Etruscan town ; then the invading 
Senones, after crossing the Alps and the whole breadth of northern Italy, settled 
down here upon the Adriatic shore and held their own for more than a century. 
It was from this territory, if not from this very town, that Brennus led the great 
expedition to Kome, when he sacked the city and got his price for leaving the 
Capitol in peace. But in the course of time the Koman took his revenge and 
became master of Ariminum. Since then its history has not been altogether one 
of undisturbed tranquillity. It was sacked by Sulla; its citizens looked on at 
Julius Caesar's entry, after he had crossed the Rubicon. The stone from which he 
made a speech to his troops remains to this day, provided the visitor has faith 
enough to believe the local tradition. In olden times, Rimini, like many another 
town in the days of the "decline and fall," had its troubles; but emerged from 
them as an independent commune. Early in the thirteenth century came the rise 
of the Malatesta family, and before the middle of it they had become practically 
independent rulers. The distinctive characteristic of this family appears to have 
been an abundance of talent and a deficiency of virtue, so that, as a rule, they lived 
up to their name. One family tragedy, the guilty love and death of Francesca, 
told in the " Inferno " of Dante, has become immortal. She was a daughter 
of a magnate of Ravenna, given in marriage, for political reasons, to Giovanni 
the Lame, son of Malatesta, who at that time ruled Rimini. Giovanni, though 
a brave soldier, was deformed in person and ill-favoured in face. But, unhappily, 
his brother Paolo was so great a contrast as to be called The Handsome. 


to Boccac- 
cio, Gio- 
vanni was 
enough to 
send his 
brother in- 
stead of 
going him- 
self to fetch home 
Ids bride. Be that 
as it may, the lady could not 
help making comparisons, and 
the result was disastrous. As 
Dante relates the tale, the lady 

HI id her brother-in-law took to conning 
love stories together, and so as they 

Head one day for pastime, seated nigh, 
Of Lancilot, how love enchained him too," 

precept was illustrated by practice, and 
oral teaching by experimental demonstra- 
tion. The usual results were followed 
by the penalty which in those days was 
not unfrequent ; for the husband's sus- 
picions were aroused, he surprised the 
guilty pair in company, and killed them 
both out of hand. 

The Castle of the Malatestas must 
have been an attractive residence in olden 
time, for it is parted from the houses of 
the town by an open green, and rests 
upon the outer wall, looking out across 

the plain towards 
the Apennines. 
It is now sadly 
and patched 
with shab- 
by modern 
work; but 
the old 

Sketches at CoinaccJiio. 



brick towers and the main features of the building still remain, a memorial of " dark 
days of history," which is almost as picturesque as it is interesting. The contrast 
between its present decadence and the unchanged beauty of the distant view seems 
to be iii harmony with the lines with which the home of the Malatestas has been 
inseparably coupled : 

" Nessun maggior dolore 
Che recordarsi del tempo felice 
Nella miseria." 

At the present time the Piazzo Giuglio Cesare is, on the whole, the most 
attractive part of Rimini. 
Here that general addressed 
his troops, and the stone 
which served as his rostrum 
is still to be seen ! But this 
place was the scene of other 
efforts of oratory. There is 
also a tiny chapel standing 
in the open part of the 
piazza ; and not far away, 
by a canal, is a second one. 
These commemorate inci- 
dents in the life of St. 
Anthony of Padua. He 
came to preach to the 
people of Rimini, but they 
turned a deaf ear to his 
exhortation ; so he went to 
the bank of the canal and 
addressed the fishes, who 
thronged up to listen as if he were casting bread on the waters in an actual instead 
of a figurative sense. The Piazza is a picturesque place ; in plan it is roughly a 
segment of a circle. Many of the houses are quaint and old-fashioned, some of 
them resting on an arcade, part of which incorporates some very ancient material, 
for the capitals appear to be early Romanesque, if not Roman work. 

The churches iu Rimini are not particularly noteworthy, except that the Duomo 
is a curious instance of an architectural transformation. It was originally built of 
brick and in the " Italian Gothic " style, but in the middle of the fifteenth century 
one of the Malatestas determined to convert it into a temple worthy of the grandeur 
of his house, so he set about it in a characteristic fashion, concealing original 
meanness under a mask of outward splendour. In effect he put the old brick church 


Arch of Augustus, Rimini. 


into a new stone case, by building about its walls a sumptuous structure in the style 
of the Renaissance. It is thus like a shabby box inside a smart cover, and the one 
is seen through the openings in the other. The old west front is completely masked, 
though Malatesta's facade, with its great window, still remains unfinished. The side 
walls are built of grand blocks of white marble, and adorned with slabs of " porphyry," 
but through the great arches one could touch the rough brick of the old building, 
and its windows still light the interior. This, like the exterior, is plain but grandiose 
in design, and the whole, if completed, would have formed an apt monument to a 
family which, after the Christian era, should have seemed rather an anachronism. 

But if Rimini lias little to interest us in its so-called Christian architecture, it 
has preserved two fine monuments of its Pagan days. The river Marecchia is still 
crossed by a noble Roman bridge, built of pale grey limestone. It has five arches, 
the three in the middle being slightly larger than the other two, and having a span of 
about eight yards. The spaces between the arches are relieved by shallow niches, 
hardly more than recessed panels. Here and there new stones have been inserted, 
but on the whole the bridge is in good preservation. At the opposite end of the 
main street, the Corso d'Augusto, which no doubt follows the same lines as the 
original Roman thoroughfare, is another relic of ancient days, the triumphal arch 
which was erected in honour of Augustus. As the illustration shows, it is a plain but 
effective stone structure, the attic of which has been much injured, the forked brick 
battlements dating probably from the sixteenth century. 

Beyond Rimini the lower hills approach the coast, and the scenery is varied and 
pretty. We pass Pesaro, an old fortified town, noted in modern times as the birth- 
place of Rossini ; then Fano, an ancient place, for it boasts a triumphal arch as old 
as the days of Augustus ; and is still picturesque, with its moat and walls of rough 
brick, and its tall campaniles ; and, lastly, Sinigaglia, which gave birth to Pio Nono. 
This, too, has its attractions : massive houses with pantile roofs, low church towers, 
remnants of old walls, with machicolated battlements, make up more than one 
pleasant picture. Between the two towns the Metaurus comes down to the sea, flowing 
between steep banks of pale-coloured mud, through a wide and richly-tilled valley, 
which runs up into the hills and is lost among the distant Apennines. On its 
banks the fate of Rome and Carthage hung in suspense. Quid debeas, Roma, 
Neronibus, Testis Metanrum fiumen et Hasdrubal Devictus ! South of Sinigaglia the 
coast is flat ; but low hills, richly cultivated, are not far away, and these are backed 
by the Apennines, while the fortified headlands and harbour of Ancona soon become 
features in the outlook no less picturesque than prominent. 

Ancona (the Doric Ankon, the Elbow) occupies a situation more striking than 
that of any other town of importance on the western coast of the Adriatic. The 
long strip of lowland, which for many a mile has parted the Apennines from the 



sea, here comes to an end, and their spurs descend steeply to the water's edge. The 
town climbs the slopes and occupies a shelving valley, sheltered by two prominent 
headlands which guard the harbour, and of which the summits are crowned by its 
defences. Northward the hills are shady with woods, dotted with white or pink 
houses and villages. Southward, though this can only be seen from some commanding 
knoll, the Apennines continue to border the sea, a ridgy mass backed in the far 
distance by 
bolder and more 
lofty summits, 
the higher peaks 
of the main 
range. The for- 
mer, except here 
and there for a 
grove of pines 
clothing some 
slopes too rough 
for the husband- 
man, are richly 
cultivated, and 
planted c o m - 
monly with the 
mulberry and 
the olive tree, 
the fig and the 
vine ; but here 
and there these 
give place to 

fields of grain, until at last the ground descends in steep slopes of rough herbage 
and grey crags of rock to the sparkling waters of the Adriatic. Villages are frequent, 
pleasantly diversifying the colouring ; cctstelli are not rare, telling of old times, not 
always good, when marauders by land, and, yet more, rovers from the sea, had to 
be kept at bay. Now they are grey with age and sometimes ruinous, mute but 
eloquent witnesses that in some things there have been changes for the better. 
But millennial times have not yet come, for as we cast our eyes towards Ancona 
bastions and ravelins in plenty indicate that " he still keeps best who hath the 

The history of Ancona, in fact, has not always been a record of peace. 
Thirteen centuries ago it was sacked by the Lombards, and at a later date by the 



The Harbour, Brindisi. 

Saracens. Full seven hundred years ago it was besieged ' by the allies of Frederick 
Barbarossa, and suffered from famine even more than from war, and so late as 
1809 it was bombarded by the Austrians. 

It is a very old town, for it was founded by Doric Greeks from Syracuse 
nearly four centuries before the Christian era ; then it became a Roman colony, 
and rose to be a port of note, the Liverpool of the Empire. It is now a large and 
growing city, consisting of an old quarter, which borders the harbour and clusters 
on the slopes of its two guardian headlands, Monte Ciriaco and Monte Conero ; and 
of a new quarter, which occupies the broad valley between them, and in another 
direction fringes the shore up to the railway station. 

The new quarter resembles that in any other developing Italian town ; wide 
streets, tall houses, smart shops, a large piazza, an aspect more sumptuous than 
picturesque. The old quarter has narrow, winding, often steep streets ; houses 
thickly crowded, irregular in plan, in architecture, in material. It is not, indeed, a 
town specially attractive to the artist, but here and there he may be arrested by 
some remnant of old but hardly of mediaeval times, such as an ornate door or 
perhaps a house-front. Ancona, indeed, possesses two or three buildings of 
exceptional interest, but except for these it attracts rather as a whole than in its 
details. Perhaps one of the best points of view is from the neighbourhood of the 
arch erected by Pope Clement XII., a heavy structure worthy of its age. The waters 



of the harbour sparkle under the protection of Trajan's Mole, which runs out from 
the headland of Monte Ciriaco, itself a promontory, the " elbow " of hill which 
gave at once a harbour and a name to the place. Up its steep slopes the houses 
of Ancona are clustered, and the first bare bluff is crowned by the old cathedral 
with its stumpy campanile. On yet higher ground, cut off by a slight depression, 
is a fort ; from this the eye travels across the wide valley occupied by modern 
Ancona, much of which, however, is hidden by the broken slopes of the nearer 
and higher hill, Monte Conero. This 
is one mass of fortifications, which 
climb its slopes and finally centre on 
the citadel. Close at hand, in one 
corner of the harbour, is the Lazaretto, 
an old polygonal half-fortified building, 
completely isolated by a broad " canal." 

Two of the three most interesting 
buildings in Ancona are generally 
conspicuous, and have been already 
named. Trajan's Arch stands on the 
old Eornan Mole, and is still in good 
preservation, though in another genera- 
tion it will have seen out eighteen 
centuries. It is less heavy and massive 
than is usual in these memorial arches, 
is still adorned by Corinthian columns, 
and was formerly enriched by bronze 
ornaments. Kaised upon an elevated 
pedestal, it is dignified as well as 
beautiful, and will be found inferior to 
very few monuments of the kind. 

Of yet more varied interest, though without much external beauty, is the Duomo, 
which, as already mentioned, occupies a commanding situation. It forms a link with 
the past, which perhaps reaches yet farther back than the days of Trajan, for it 
occupies the site and incorporates the material of a Pagan temple. Its characteristics 
have been excellently described by Professor E. H. Freeman: 

" The Duomo of Ancona, as seen from the mole, as seen anywhere from the 
outside, is a building whose forms are purely and eloquently Christian. Unlike the 
earlier basilicas of Ravenna and Borne, it is not satisfied to be all glorious within. 
It has its external outline, the outline of the now triumphant Cross, the four arms 
joining to support the cupola as the crown of the whole, as distinctly marked as any 

Casa Virgili, Brindisi. 


Minster of England or Normandy. The cupola instead of the massive towers, the 
detached campanile, nmvorthy as it is of the building to which it belongs, tell us that 
we are not in Normandy or England, but in Italy. But another feature of the 
building tells us that we are in one of those spots of Italy on which influences from 
the other side of the Adriatic have left a lasting impress. The city which had once 
been the Dorian Ankon, the city which was to be the last fortress in Italy held by 
the troops of a Byzantine Emperor, not unfittingly shows the sign of kindred with the 
East in the form of the church of its intermediate days. . . . The church which 
contains the columns of the temple of the Dorian Aphrodite is still so far Greek as 
to follow in its general plan the same Greek cross as St. Mark's, though without 
that further accumulation of many cupolas which makes the ducal church of Venice 
one of the many reminders that in the City of the Lagoons we are in the Eastern 
and not in the Western world." 

The whole plan of the church is rather exceptional, for the nave is short in 
comparison with the choir. The exterior is plain, except for its grand west portal, 
the columns of which, as is so common farther north in Italy, rest upon crouching 
lions. The interior is also plain, but the pillars, with their shafts of granite and 
cipollino, and their sculptured capitals, in the western part, are evidently relics of 
the original temple. The building within and withoiit affords traces of structures 
belonging to more than one age, and offers more than one problem to the 
archaeologist. Down in the town also is a curious Romanesque church, dedicated 
to St. Mary, of which the authority quoted above aptly speaks : 

" Disfigured without mercy within, hemmed in among mean buildings without, 
famished with an unworthy campanile, this church still retains its west front of 
the very richest form of the more barbaric variety of the Italian Romanesque, that 
which departs more widely from classical and approaches more nearly to Northern 
forms. It is covered with arcades, with a magnificent doorway in the centre, and 
almost every arch of the design is living with figures, human, animal, and vegetable. 
The doorway is utterly unlike its splendid neighbour in the Duomo. It has, in 
fact, not only a Northern, but, one might almost say, an Irish or North- Welsh 

South of Ancona are many towns and villages of little importance or interest ; 
but the scenery is often varied and pretty. Beyond Termoli it becomes more tame for 
a while, until Monte Gargano is approached. This is an almost insulated mass of 
hills rising to a height of over four thousand feet and forming the well-known heel of 
Italy. Seen from the Adriatic it is a grand group of huge wooded bluffs, which descend 
steeply to the water, and are broken here and there by grey crags of limestone. South 
of it a broad strip of level land separates the Apennines from the sea, and extends to 
beyond Briudisi ; a fertile but interesting district, " a laud of wine and oil olive." 



Barletta, Trani, and Bisceglie are passed in succession ; all towns of some importance, 
the first an ancient place, with a statue of some emperor of the East in its market- 
place. Then we come to Bari. This, indeed, is without beauty of situation, but 
is a bright, growing, much modernised town, which, however, retains parts of its old 
walls and its " castello " on a slight and low headland between its two harbours. 
Its principal church, dedicated to St. Nicola, is a most interesting structure, for it 
retains a considerable portion 
of the fabric erected by Robert 
Guiscard in 1087 to receive 
the relics of that saint. These 
yield the manna de Bari, 
much prized by Roman pil- 
grims. Within and without it 
will reward the archaeologist ; 
but space forbids us to dwell 
on its details, or those of the 
Duomo, once a fine church, 
but sorely injured by eighteenth 
century " improvements." 

Our journey ends, as is 
often the case with English 
travellers, at Brindisi. It has 
a fine harbour, completely 
land-locked, yet so deep that 
first-class steamers can lie 
close up to the quay, but is 
not otherwise an attractive place. The surrounding country is a very low plateau, 
almost a plain, covered with vines and figs and olives, with here and there a date- 
palrn and stone-pine, and many a plant of spiky aloe or prickly pear. The town 
is not picturesque, and, on the whole, uninteresting. It is emphatically shabby, not 
to say dirty, and has the look of having seen better days. So it has, for Brindisi 
was the Southampton of Imperial Rome and of Crusading Europe. But after these 
expeditions prosperity departed ; its harbours began to fill up, and until the days of 
railways it fared badly, for it was sacked by enemies and shattered by an earthquake. 
Things have been improved since railways were made, but indications of returning 
prosperity can only be found by the harbour-side or without the shattered walls. In 
one corner is a ruinous old castle, the round towers of which, notwithstanding ugly 
accretions of modern date, are rather picturesque. From the neighbouring town wall 
is the best view inland, but we must not look at this, for the ground is so sacred 

Column of the Afpian Way, Brindisi. 



that wr arc at once warned off by a sentry. Respect the dignity of United Italy, and 
retire, for the walls of Brindisi are in fragments, and the castle might require half a 
dozen shells from a turret gun before it utterly collapsed ! Those who remember 
their classics may recall the memories of the Via Appia, which ended here, and 
Horace's description of his journey from Rome, and may go to see, if their 
capacities for belief are considerable, the house in which Virgil died. In fact, 
Brindisi has nothing to detain the traveller except one or two faQades of houses 
and old churches, in neither case of any great size, and the ancient marble column 
which looks down upon the harbour from the scarped edge of the elevated plain. 
There have been two, but of one only the pedestal and a block of the column 
(for they are not monoliths) remain. The capital of the other one is richly carved. 
Opinions differ as to their history. They were brought here in the eleventh century, 
it is supposed, from a ruined temple outside the gates, and are said, but without 
authority, to have marked the end of the Appian way. Their date also is rather 
uncertain. They may even be Byzantine, as some have thought ; if not, they 
belong to the later days of the Western Empire. This seen, quit Brindisi, with 
its squalid peasants and tricky harbour-men, as quickly as possible ; and if you 
cannot travel by the mail express, you will learn how trains can crawl and traffic be 
mismanaged, and how Italy, beyond her show places, is a quarter of a century behind 
the countries of Central Europe, and still hides, under the thinnest veil of progress, 
the old lazy, careless, mendicant, not to say dishonest, ways ! 


, A'azviiua. 



fTVHE phrase "a perfect Paradise if it were not inhabited by devils" has been 
applied to Calabria, as well as to certain of the greater islands of the 
Mediterranean. It is an expressive phrase, but in this instance not quite veracious. 
Though fascinating from two or three aspects, Calabria lacks certain essential 
conditions to make it even a terrestrial Paradise. Nor are its people in this age, 
whatever they may have been a hundred years ago, by any means so inhuman as 
the epigram implies. 

The days have gone by when a prudent person would as soon have thought 
of entering Calabria alone and unarmed as landing upon an island of cannibals in 
the South Seas. The railway which already skirts the entire coast-line of the 
province upon the southern and south-eastern sides has made a vast difference to 
the land; and when the new line, destined to run from Reggio to Naples as 
nearly as possible along the western shores, is also completed, the Calabrians 
will speedily surrender the remnant of their old costumes arid traditions, put on 
broadcloth, read the daily papers like other civilised mortals, and let their long 
guns rust in the corners of their cottages. 

It is possible, however, that ere Calabria is tamed to this dreadful extent the 
land will be almost depopulated. As it is, the annual exodus thence to America 
is very great. The traveller finds indications of it in the most trivial and remote 
little highland villages, as well as in the cafes of more advanced townlets within 



hail of the laihvay. The former are still connected with the district capitals by 
the rudest of mule tracks, and are encircled iu their apparent isolation by huge 
wooded ribs of mountain, at the bases of which are deep gullies made almost 
impassable iu the rainy season by the brawling rush of watercourses. Yet even 
here the traveller sees the departing emigrants embracing their friends and 
acquaintances with much tearful lament, and afterwards setting forth in a halo of 
picturesqueness upon a string of mules. He sees others at the railway stations on 
the main line for the north, sad and sobbing as they think of the homes they 
have left, and the uncertainty of the future. And everywhere the large-lettered 
advertisements of the steamship companies confront him, and tell of the constant 
nature of the leak which is thus draining the land of its human muscle. If 
Calabria were the Paradise the proverb prates of, its sons and daughters, with their 
old parents and young children, would not be so ready to migrate elsewhere, 
especially now that a strong and paternal Government has removed the taint of 
lawlessness which formerly sullied its reputation. 

So few travellers set foot in Calabria that the man who does venture into it 
feels that he is almost a pioneer. There is something pleasurably exhilarating 
about such a feeling, though it may not be wholly justifiable. Hills and valleys, 
rivers and villages, the ruined castles of the old-time barons who oppressed the land, 
and even the ancient crones who hobble about with many a groan, all get more 
or less transfigured by the strong focus of interest that curiosity throws upon them. 
The tales of one's landlord in this or that sequestered little hostelry (where the 
visitor is in peril of being lionised uncomfortably), and the outspoken chatter of 
one's fellow-travellers in the wretched diligences which link valley to valley, have 
a knack of recasting themselves in memory, so that they appear subsequently much 
more romantic than they really were. The imagination, in short, has a very good 
time of it, and, for the moment, cold, clear-eyed Truth is slighted. 

Let me give an instance of this. In journeying from Gioja to Monteleone 
(towns of Lower Calabria) I had for companions one day, an old gentleman and 
his daughter, with whom I soon became agreeably intimate. They were nothing 
out of the common to look at, though the girl wore a mantilla, as if to hint at 
the ages ago when Spain had a hand in the government of Calabria. We jaunted 
slowly along the hot, dusty highway in our hired carriage, between olive woods and 
vineyards, and across muddy brooks with but little water in them, until we came to 
just such a roadside shrine as the one in the picture. The driver crossed himself, 
and so did the old gentleman. But this did not satisfy the girl. What must 
she do but desire the vehicle to be stopped, that she might go on her knees 
before the dilapidated pale-blue plaster figure set in its niche ? The driver took 
the opportunity to light a fresh cigarette ; the old gentleman shrugged his shoulders 


and smiled. When her devotions were at an end, the girl stood up and looked 
about her. A bunch of withered flowers in a vase was before the image. For 
these anon she substituted fresher ones, picked from the adjacent cactus hedge-rows. 
Then, with a happy look of contentment, she rejoined us. But after her prayers 
and praiseworthy attentions to the shrine, what think you had the maiden done 
further ? She had climbed into a small vegetable-patch hard by, and pilfered 
an armful of broad-beans. As we drove on she merrily ate the fruits of her theft, 
and expressed a desire for more. It was a trivial little incident at the time, but 
now, in retrospect, it seems full of definite portrayal of the simplicity of the Calabrian 

Some people fancy that there is still systematised brigandage in Calabria. I am 
sorry to have to dispel any such notions ; sorry, that is, for the reader's, not the 
traveller's sake. Most of the Calabrian peasantry are sons and daughters or 
grandsons and granddaughters of bandits, or of those who were in league with the 
bandits. Here, as in Sardinia and Sicily, the profession of brigand was much esteemed 
of old. An honest shepherd who lived upon the produce of his flocks and nothing 
extraneous, was a man despised of the majority, a fit subject for blackmail ; and as 
a suitor for the hand of a spirited girl of the soil he ranked much below the bold 
bandit with the blood of a score of victims upon his conscience. The country 
seemed made for the practice of this nefarious profession. Every peak was a 
fastness, and the yawning valleys round about them were the moats dug or suddenly 
created by considerate Dame Nature to protect her valorous sons from the 
approaches of the military or the district police. There are a multitude of sites 
like that of Brancaleone in the engraving, strong and startling ; and the natives 
made the most of them. Tiriolo by Catauzaro is perhaps the most remarkable of 
them all. It stands so high that the predaceous villagers could view the land for 
many miles round, and the sea on both sides of the peninsula, and thus make their 
plans for the interception of strangers with the utmost assurance of success. After 
a tour among the Calabrian mountains, one wonders the less why the natives were 
so roguishly inclined, and why it was so hard for the Bourbons, and even for Victor 
Emmanuel, to eradicate the evil from this province of Italy. 

But nowadays all is changed. One may lose oneself in the forests, whether of 
Aspromoute in the south, by Eeggio, or in the north of the province, by Cosenza, 
and be in peril of nothing worse than a night in the open and a bad cold. The 
" caccia al brigantaggio," or brigand-hunting, which a few decades ago afforded such 
excellent and lively sport to those who were engaged in it, is at an end. It is well 
that it is so, for it was a pitiful pastime even at the best. One may doubt if the 
brigands themselves were ever more merciless and inhuman than the soldiers whom 
King Murat of Naples commissioned to exterminate them. Until Murat came to the 



Shrine near Catanzaro. 

throne there was little effectual re- 
straint upon their actions, and when 
he was superseded hy a Bourbon 
the old licence was renewed. Yet, 

though his mandates were stern to ferocity, he himself was not incapable of leniency. 
One day, for example, in the neighbourhood of Palmi, he met two soldiers with a man 
bound between them. He asked what crime the prisoner had committed, whereupon 
the man himself replied : " Your majesty, I am a brigand, but deserving of pardon, 
because yesterday while your majesty was climbing the mountains by Scilla, I might 
have killed you from behind a rock where I was hiding. I did think of doing it, 
and had prepared my gun. But your majesty's noble and royal deportment 
restrained me. If yesterday I had killed the king, I should not to-day have been a 
prisoner and at the point of death." Murat was notoriously vain of his personal 
appearance. He could not fail therefore to appreciate the compliment paid him by 
the brigand, whom he straightway set at liberty. 

The professional comrades of this rogue, and even women and children suspected 
of being in collusion with or related to them, were less fortunate. Colletta, in his 
"History of the Kingdom of Naples," gives some appalling details of the cruelty to 
which the Calabrians as a people were subjected. It was a capital offence to be 
found in the open country with a crust of bread in one's pocket, the inference 












being that the hread was for the sustenance of a proscribed person in hiding. Thus 
we read of the butchery of eleven women and children by Stilo, who were met on 
their way to the olive woods by certain of King Murat's soldiers under the command 
of the notorious Gambacorta. The poor creatures each had their midday meal with 
them, and upon this evidence alone they were shot then and there. Under 
stimulant of this kind it may be imagined that the legitimate brigands did not 
spare their foes when they got a chance at them. The land was consequently 
reddened with blood, and a hundred years ago men were shot and gibbeted or 
mutilated witli as little scruple as if they had been so many crows. The tale of the 
South Italian baron who, in a fury against the clergy of his cathedral, cut off all 
their heads, and set the severed heads upon the stalls in the cathedral which they 
were wont to occupy, is an appropriate testimony to the hardness of the times 
here before the spirit of constitutional government came to civilise and reform the 

It is perhaps the recollection of the grim, evil lives of their forefathers, brought 
home to them the more as they advance in education, that makes civilisation seem 
so doubtful a boon to the modern Calabrian. " I loved my father and honoured him 
as a brave man until, with your schools and knowledge, you taught me to perceive 
that he was only a contemptible thief and shedder of blood." This is what one is 
prone to think the Calabrian says in his heart. It may also explain the sadness in 
the dark eyes of so many of the villagers. At first sight it is so pathetic an 
expression that the stranger does not know what to make of it. Perhaps he asks if 
there has been an epidemic (periodical pestilences being another of the influences in 
the development of the Calabrian), and if every family has paid toll to death. But 
later he arrives at what he conceives to be the real key to the riddle. It is this 
yearning to get away from -a land which, with all its tender associations, daily 
reminds them of the iniquity and misery of their past, that makes Calabria so 
prolific a field of recruits for the broad pampas of the Argentine Republic, public 
works on the Panama isthmus, and the slums of New York. It were harrowing to 
trace the future of two-thirds of the Calabrian emigrants. In their case the sins of 
the fathers are visited upon the children with bitter actuality. 

Of the three districts into which Calabria is divided, that of Lower Calabria, of 
which Reggio is the capital, is the most thickly peopled. Seen from Sicily, on the 
other side of the Straits of Messina, this part of the mainland appears little but 
a great mountain plateau. The pines and beech-trees which beset the surface of the 
uplands are lost at a distance, and so are the deep ravines which cleave them and 
make movement here so arduous. I have looked over this tract from the summit of 
Etna, and marvelled where the towns and villages could be found to account for 
its population. On scirocco days it is peculiarly gloomy and forbidding. The 


leaden haze of the heavens and the horizon deepens the black of the huge mass 
of Aspromonte (the name declares its ruggedness), where Garibaldi in 1862 suffered 
defeat, was wounded, and made prisoner. And the race of water in the Strait, 
with its low, white-capped waves, makes one think for the moment that there 
really might be a respectable measure of danger here at such times. Of course 
the ancients exaggerated when they made so much of the famous Scylla and 
Charybdis. Entering Messina from the north, the dog-teeth rocks of Scylla to the 
left are plainly visible : and certainly they would be unpleasant to shipwreck 
upon. But the whirlpool of Charybdis near the lighthouse on the cape from Messina 
is less evident. One hears tales of small fishing craft being engulphed in it, 
and it is conceivable that now and again there is an accident off Scylla ; but a 
modern steamer takes little notice of either of these dreadful risks, separated the 
one from the other, moreover, by a distance of about two miles and a half. Virgil's 
description of them as they appeared to 2Eneas and his companions, sailing from 
the south, has all a poet's licence of enlargement : 

" Far on the right her clogs foul Scylla hides, 
Charybdis roaring on the left presides, 
And in her greedy whirlpool sucks the tides, 
Then spouts them from below : with fury driven 
The waves mount up, and wash the face of heaven. 
But Scylla from her den, with open jaws, 
The sinking vessel in her eddv draws 
Then dashes on the rocks." 

The modern town of Scilla, perched above the famous rocks, is pretty enough 
to tempt an artist. It is a white little place, with abundant orange and lemon 
gardens in its neighbourhood. Nowadays it has a railway station, and it is odd to 
have one's classical memories freshened by the voices of officials in gold-banded hats 
methodically calling the name of the place. A very ambitious line, moreover, is this 
new one thus on its way to Naples. It has Pullman cars on its trains, and the 
work of tunnelling through the mighty western spurs of Aspromonte, where they fall 
almost sheer into the sea, is a vigorous test of the skill of its engineers. The views 
of blue sea, olive woods, red ravines, and smoking Stromboli and the other Lipari 
Isles, which this line offers between its tunnels, are not easily matched for beauty 
even by those of the northern Eiviera between Pisa and Monte Carlo. 

Scilla suffered sadly, with the rest of Calabria, in the earthquake of 1783. The 
first shock set the houses falling, so that those of the people who could hurried out 
of them, and towards the shore. With the other refugees was the Prince of Scilla. 
But shortly afterwards there was a second shock : the sea swelled up before the 
eyes of the populace, and an enormous wave, more than twenty feet high, rushed 
upon the land. The Prince of Scilla and some two thousand others were carried 



off by the reflux ot the wave, and their bones still lie ungarnered in the sea. 
Some said this wave was boiling hot ; but that seems as absurd as the other tradition 
which made it speed inland for three miles. 

The earthquakes of 1783 were in truth as extraordinary as they were lamentable 

for Calabria. At about one o'clock in the day of February 5th the first shock 

shattered the land. In less than two minutes more than thirty-two thousand men, 
women, and children were killed. Mountains were overthrown by it; villages expunged 
from the face of the earth, and never a trace of them left; rivers diverted from their 
old beds to new. This was the beginning. Other earthquakes followed, in which 
the very houses and bodies of men swallowed up on February 5th were cast up again. 
Towns which had withstood the earliest and severest quake succumbed to the later 
ones. The people became demoralised. Under Ferdinand IV. there was at no 
time much security for life in Calabria. But the earthquake burst the prisons and 
let loose brigands and rogues upon the land by thousands ; and so everywhere 
pillage and murder accompanied the other disasters. Nothing but a pestilence was 
wanted to make the misery of the unhappy Calabrians complete ; and in the summer 
this also came upon them, as a result of the myriad of dead bodies which poisoned 
the air. It was a fearful year. Not fewer than sixty thousand people are said to 
have died from the earthquakes in ten months. 

One might suppose that at such a time a person would think of anything rather 
than going to law. The right of the strong arm was then much, and for the weak 
there was the comfort of the church. But these alternatives were not enough for 
all. In one district the landed estate of a certain proprietor was upheaved, torn 
away, and carried down a mountain side, upon the fields of another proprietor. A 



whole plantation of olive-trees was thus transferred by Nature. The two proprietors 
disputed about their claims, and appealed to the law. The original owner of the 
dislodged estate made his plea, which was sufficiently obvious ; and the other who 
had thus involuntarily received such a substantial, though embarrassing, addition to his 
domains, proved that the land beneath was his. It was surely a case upon which an 
entire bench of the wisest judges might well have taken time to adjudicate. But here 
in Calabria it was soon settled. The man upon whose estate the other estate had 
descended was declared proprietor of all that stood upon his land. More equitably, 
the aggrieved landlord might have been told to take away his own plantation, yet 

Roccella Tonica, from the Beach : Upper Calabria. 

in such a way that he did no harm to the underlying estate of his neighbour. But 
it would have put him in a dilemma much like Shylock's. 

Earthquakes, pestilences, and perennial disorder used to be the three prime 
agents of influence upon the character of the unfortunate Calabrians. Small wonder 
they got a bad name for themselves. We, of Great Britain, should be likely to 
deteriorate under the same conditions. The architectural poverty of Calabria is no 
doubt due in a measure to these earthquakes. Of what use was it to devote long 
years of surpassing labour to a work that might in a few moments be destroyed 
utterly ? Besides, the older buildings have for the most part been shaken to the 
ground, or swallowed up long ago. Exception must, however, be made in favour of 
the baronial castles, on their rock eyries. These gaunt ruins still stand firm in 
defiance of storms and revolutions. The churches, on the other hand, are generally 
uninteresting, ugly, and comparatively fragile ; with inner coats of whitewash, and 
decked, as to their altars, with unpleasing fripperies, and pictures that display a 
surprising amount of imbecility. Here and there one sees long, jagged seams in 



the walls, crevices, may be, inches deep amid the bricks. This is the work of one 
earthquake more violent than its predecessors. The money-box by the door appeals 
to the charitable in the name of the earthquake. It is quite likely, however, that 
years ere the faithful can contribute enough for the necessary restoration, another 
shock will level the building to the ground. 

But a sunny day makes one brutally unmindful of these various torments to 
which the " toe territory " of Italy has been subjected. The mood of Calabria, and 
especially of the Straits, is then completely charming. The white sands by S. 
Giovanni and Bagnara then gleam towards Sicily, and the verdure of Aspromonte's 
massy slopes has a sheen like velvet. Sails stud the blue channel between the two 
lands, with perhaps but just enough breeze in them to keep them steadily in motion. 
Though so dark of brow, and sad-faced, even the Calabrian may then be heard 
singing merry Neapolitan " canzoni," in oblivion of all his hardships, past, present, 
and to come. The steam-ferry that plies between Messina and S. Giovanni (the 
nearest village on the opposite shore) is then often quite tumultuous with song, 
and the very steward who goes about collecting the coppers from his passengers joins 
in with a laugh. 

Much might be said about Messina, the head of this beautiful strait which is 
named after it. Few older cities exist in Europe, and when one reflects upon the 
worth of such a position in the old days, it is not to be wondered at. The strait 
was then an international padlock of much more importance than it is ever again 
likely to become. 

Messina is a great place for fish as well as commerce. On one's bill of fare 
here, the item " sword-fish " is sure to attract notice. You may see the fish them- 
selves in the market, being shorn into slabs ; and very excellent are sword-fish steaks 
when broiled as we broil salmon. Tunny, another common dish in Messina, is not 
unlike the sword-fish, but scarcely so palatable. 

The visitor who takes an interest in mythology will not fail to look at the 
towering altar in the old cathedral of this old city. The cathedral itself is 
exceptionally attractive, its strong, coarse architecture telling of the centuries that 
have gone by since the Normans began to build it. But the altar is the focus of 
all local veneration. Within it is a letter said to have been written by the Virgin 
Mary to the Messenians, enclosing a lock of her hair, and expressing the wish that 
they would regard her as their patron saint. Such a wish has, of course, been 
respected, especially as St. Paul is said to have been the bearer of the letter. Even 
nowadays one may meet Sicilians with the Christian name " Letterio " or "Letteria" 
(according to their sex), given them in honour of this unique treasure. 

Gerace may be approached either from Catanzaro or Keggio, or by diligence 
across the mountains from Gioja on the western shore of Calabria. The man who 


is not pressed for time may be advised to follow the last of these routes. Indeed, 
the like advice would hold for the rest of Calabria also. It is only iu the interior 
that one can appreciate thoroughly the idle, placid life of the Calabrian assured of 
a livelihood. Besides, the air among the red-roofed villages in the chestnut and 
beech woods of the mountains is so much more bracing than that of the coast-line, 
and far healthier. 

Malaria is in fact still a cruel scourge in this province of Italy. From spring 
to autumn it is prevalent in the lowlands. The sallow faces of the peasants tell 
their tale very clearly, and their wan cheeks seem the more wan in contrast with 
the gaudy scarlet and blue of their distinctive costumes, and the panoply of beads 
and gilt jewellery with which they bedeck themselves. The very fertility of the 
country does but aggravate the curse. The rivers that in spring run with a full 
stream, brown and turbid, are in summer little better than so many depressions of 
unctuous slime. Were the mountains whence they rise less rich in forests, the 
malaria of the seaboard (and especially in western Calabria) would be less intense. 
As it is, there is a constant renewal of the alluvial soil which annually drains with 
their superabundant moisture from the uplands towards the coast. In a certain 
church of Cosenza, the capital town of Upper Calabria, one sees a tombstone upon 
which is graven the lament that the deceased had no sooner set foot in the place 
than he fell a victim to a fever. The epitaph might almost be stereotyped for 
more general use. 

When the writer was in Gioja a few months ago the new railway from the 
south had but just reached the village. Great was the bustle and excitement in the 
olive woods on the mountain slopes through which the line was being carried. A 
river was being bridged. Stores of all kinds were piled among the gigantic 
gnarled trunks of the old trees. Women were cooking victuals for the men, and 
large yellow dogs stood about eager for bones or aught else edible. The Calabrian 
labourers in their blue cotton jackets were all lustily engaged in helping on the 
work of civilisation : either felling trees, dressing granite blocks for the bridge, or 
cutting cross-ties for the permanent way. 

Gerace is a little remote from the railway and the southern sea, upon both of 
which it looks from its higher elevation. Here, it is to be presumed, dwell the 
descendants of those once-great people, the Locrians of Magna Gra3cia. This is what 
Pindar calls the 

" Locrians' favoured land 
Refreshed by zephyr's breath." 

The whole extent of this south-eastern shore of Italy was, indeed, two and a half 
centuries ago, in a surprising state of prosperity. We can but guess at its magnitude 
from the feeble records of it in the writings of the ancients. The ruins of the 



buildings that remain to us are trivial in comparison with the buildings themselves 
as they were. There is nothing here like the noble bronzed and gold temples of 
PiEstum farther to the north ; yet these were raised by emigrants from Greece of 
the same epoch. What little is left of Locri in Gerace lies among the balmy 
orchards of oranges and lemons in its vicinity. Agesidamus, the son of Archestratus, 
whom Pindar celebrates for his victory with the cestus in the Olympic games, would 

not now easily recognise 
his birthplace. 

Sybaris is another 
Calabrian name to conjure 
with. The site of this 
ancient luxury-loving city 
is in middle Calabria, near 
that bold peak Monte 
Pollino. I spent a few 
hours at the modern Sibari 
one day, and failed to 
discern aught that even 

hinted at its substantial 
past. There was a railway 

station and a waiting-room, 
in which four priests, 
several emigrants and their 
bundles, and an old woman 

Amcndolea: Upper Calabria. with a prodigious green 

umbrella, all sat in terror 

of the outer noonday sun. Half a dozen mean houses were near the station. In one 
a common table was set upon the earth floor, and divers Calabrian peasants, burnt 
almost black, were eating their mid-day meal of barley-bread, raw beans, and wine, 
at a cost of five halfpennies apiece. The place teemed with fleas, a characteristic 
of Calabrian dwellings ; and well it might, for pigs and poultry were at liberty to 
enter and leave the house at their pleasure. A knot of four other men were sitting 
round another table outside, under the shade of a tall eiicalyptus tree, playing cards 
somewhat soberly ; while another man sat by mending a coat. The broad plain 
whence Sybaris drew much of its wealth was beyond the house, stretching to the 
base of the purple crag of Pollino, and its oats were ripe for the harvest. It was 
not to be traversed this day without peril of a sunstroke, so blistering was the 
heat. And thus I too enjoyed my ease under the shade, and drank wine, and 
smoked, and viewed the landscape until the cool of the evening was at hand, and 



the mountain put on new garments of startling hues, from violet to crimson, ere 
losing itself in the sullen gloom of night. 

In fact, however, a summer's night on these Calahrian shores has generally hut 
little gloom about it. The stars are here brighter than with us. A mild light 
seems to be diffused over the laud from the gentle rippling of the sea upon the 
beach ; and countless fireflies dance in the air, like lamps in the hands of fairies 
holding revel on these shores of romantic memories. 

This is the time, too, to discover a multitude of fanciful beauties in such places 
as Koccella lonica, and the other little coast towns. By day there is dirt and 
dilapidation enough in their cramped streets ; and the dark faces of the people seem 
prematurely wrinkled. But under the moon all is transfigured and bewitching. 
The boys, neck-deep in the waveless water, look as if they were in molten silver. 
The grime and disorder of the place are sweetly dissembled, and one is content, 
even at the certain cost of much discomfort, to pass many a wakeful night in a 
Calabrian inn. 

But the moods of the Mediterranean are no more enduring than those of our 
grey northern seas. It may chance that in an hour or two a storm shall blow up 
from the south, cloud the moon, and send the white spume of the waves far over 
the smooth sands of the shore. At such times there is likely to be a hurried rally 
towards port of the several fishers and other barks in the offing ; and where there 
is no harbour near, a good deal of tact and external aid are needful to get the boats 
safely beached and cabled out of the influence of the storm. It is surprising what 
gales the Mediterranean can brew at an hour's notice. A man need not go to the 
North Atlantic or the tropics for a thorough-paced buffeting from wind and waves. 
Nor is it then so easy as it looks to get ashore from such a boat as the artist has 
shown being hauled, perhaps- too officiously, out of the surf. A little lack of 
tact might well eventuate in disaster, even though the disaster meant nothing worse 
than a ducking for the passenger and loss of oars and cargo. 

So, northwards, by Amaudolea and many another little town of a somewhat 
uniform type, and many a tower built in the old times as look-out stations against 
the rovers of north Africa and Turkey, we approach the seaport of Catanzaro, the 
capital city of middle Calabria. 

Here in summer, as elsewhere in the south of the Mediterranean, the inhabitants 
seem to be amphibious. Indeed, the wonder would be if they were not, with so fair 
and inviting a strand and sea at their very doors. The boys spend hours in the 
water; and when they are not swimming or paddling about, with a truly southern 
disregard for their nakedness, they lie or lounge about the warm sands, either with 
or without a mere shirt to their brown backs, playing cards or chattering, with many 
a laugh at they hardly know what. The scene in the picture is suggestive of a 


southern " festa " or saint's day. One may suppose that Catanzaro is holding mild 
revel, and that a goodly number of the poorer inhabitants are here, in temporary 
encampment, determined to enjoy the gifts of Nature at their disposal. Few sights 
in southern Italy are more picturesque than these semi-religious gatherings. The 
priests are with their flock, but they do not oppress them with a superabundance of 
devotional services at such times. There is a mass in the morning, a procession 
through the midst of the camp with cross and tliurifer and the particular reliquary of 
the saint being honoured. After this the day is mainly divided between dinner-time 
and the dance. A considerable quantity of wind is drunk. If the "festa" lasts 
but a day or two, the night is not an occasion for sleep. And on the morrow, if 
the assemblage is not dissolved, the scenes are repeated ; and so on until the holiday 
is at an end. The few headaches that result from all this jmiketting are as nothing 
at all by the side of the joyous exhilaration to which they give birth. The 
Calabrians are among the most superstitious of Italians. Their " feste " are therefore 
almost necessary incidents of their lives. Without them it is conceivable they would 
be fanatics of a very gloomy kind. 

The marina of Catanzaro is eight or nine miles from Catanzaro itself, and 
connected with it by a branch line of railway. The approach to Catanzaro from the 
coast is sufficiently impressive, for the city has a superb situation on a rock which 
falls almost perpendicularly a thousand feet towards the lowland upon one side. The 
road winds down to the plain and the railway station, from the steep streets of the 
city, with an infinite number of zigzags, and tedious indeed is the ascent from the 
marina. Such a place might be expected to have a good record of resistance to 
siege. It is all but impregnable, as the royalists in the wars between Ferdinand II., 
the deposed king of Naples, and the French Republicans (who held it) found to 
their cost. With much labour, cannon might be dragged to the summit of the 
neighbouring mountains, whence it could be bombarded. Otherwise, Catanzaro might 
laugh even at the stoutest efforts of modern siege artillery. In the early days of 
the century Catanzaro was rather an advanced city ; by no means the home of 
stale fashions and servile opinions. To-day also it is in repute for its enlightened 
freedom of thought. This is no small thing in a province so ridden by superstition 
as Calabria, and in which the average Calabrian would rather trust for his welfare, 
temporal and spiritual, to the brazen medallions of the saints which he wears next 
his heart, than to his own right hand, systematic industry, and a well-disciplined 

But to my mind Catanzaro is even more engaging when readied from the 
interior. I made the journey from Monteleone one day, a diligence ride of forty 
miles, lasting from 6 a.m. until 5 p.m. This may seem but a poor pace ; yet it was 
not bad for the country, which, save for the first two hours and a half of the road, 



Catanzaro Marina. 

consists of a series of acclivities which have to be climbed upon one side and 
descended on the other. The Calabrian coachmen are rare madcaps. They flog 
their horses down-hill till the greatest possible amount of speed is attained. The 
rickety old coach (perhaps tethered to the animals by frayed ropes instead of leather 
reins) follows reluctantly, with many a direful creak, and swaying ominously from 
side to side. There is thus always an element of peril in a Calabrian coach. The 
drivers do not deny the imputation, but lay the fault for it at the feet of the postal 
authorities of the kingdom, by whom they are subsidised in so mean a manner that 
they cannot afford to be particular about the harness. 

Until we began to rise into the mountains, which traverse the length of the 
peninsula like a backbone, we were on flattish ground. Where there was cultivation, 
vines and oranges throve well here. But for the most part the country was wild 
and uninhabited. Seaward there was a great stretch of scrub-land, bisected by the 
broad, stony bed of a river, and highly suggestive of the fever it bountifully begets. 
Inland, however, the view was more enlivening. The lower slopes of the hills were 
full of flowers and heath and gorse, interspersed with battalions of mammoth thistles 
in fervent bloom ; and above, the olive woods formed a fringe between this nether 
zone and the still higher dark masses of oak forest, knee-deep in fern, and the haunt 
of game. There is fine timber in the Calabriau woods, though perhaps less than in 
the past, when the Greeks came here for the material for their fleets, and when, 
subsequently, Napoleon coveted the land for the sake of the unborn navies he 
saw in it. 




By the afternoon we had done 
with the plains. It was then climh 
after climb, from plateau to plateau, over and 
round the long flanks of the mountains. We got 
into the clouds, descended from them, and anon 

rose into them again. The scenery was vigorous enough, but the engineers who have 
made these excellent highways through the land are responsible for a diminution 
of the romance of Calabria. It is difficult to think of this country as the hive of 
brigands it used to be ; at least, it would be if the tradition of them was not still 
so strong. Here and there we passed a locality with a story appended to it. Yonder 
pile of rocks, with the fringe of bushes on the summit, was a favourite perch of the 
bandits. They challenged the travellers through the bushes, which concealed both 
them and the gun-barrels which stared at the hearts of the wayfarers. Elsewhere, 
the police and the villagers (nearly as much bandits as the bandits themselves) had 
had a brush among the trees. The iron cross under the oak marks the spot where 
so many police and so many Calabriaus bit the dust. Thus, from one site to 
another, we came to Tiriolo, the notorious nest of brigandage, so high up in the 
clouds that we did not see it until we were close under it. This place is nearly 
three thousand feet above the sea; the slopes beneath it were terraced with vines, 
and women in crimson skirts with blue bodices, and long streamers to their heads, 
either white or yellow and black, were working in the fields. Of course in winter 
there is snow here, but in summer, if Calabria continues to prosper, it is likely by 
and by to become a place of " villegiatura." From its dark houses one looks towards 
the Lipari Islands on one side of Italy, and the Gulf of Taranto on the other. 



Catauzaro is a city with about thirty thousand inhabitants. Its shops are large, 
and in the miscellaneous nature of their goods much like the stores of an American 
town. You may buy a pocket-handkerchief and a packet of chocolate at the same 
counter. The streets are, as a rule, both dark and narrow. Their picturesqueness is 
certainly not due to the architecture of their houses, but to the bustle of varied 
movement in them, and the glimpses of domestic life one perceives through the open 
doors on both hands. The principal thoroughfare, in which the hotels, cafes, chief 
shops and municipal buildings are situated, is generally thronged towards sunset, and 
it is as difficult to make one's way up or down it as in the back streets of Naples. 
Here, however, broadcloth is commonly worn; and the frequent mention of Signer 
Crispi's name tells of the interest of these gossipers in the politics of the day. It 
is the same in the gilded cafe hard by, and which offers much toothsome pastry 
to its customers. To avoid this conventional metropolitan tone, one must turn aside 
and get into the network of shaded alleys which form the very broad fringe to the 
nucleus of the city. Here one is sure to meet peasants from the country in their 
unadulterated traditional garb. They come hither to sell eggs and poultry; and very 
agreeable features of the road they are, with their straight, sturdy carriage, swinging 
arms, and stout, brown legs. 

In this elevated city I found the air fresh almost to coolness when the sun 
was behind the mountains. The damp and smell of the soil which ascended to the 
aerial battlements of the city made me think of my native county in England. 
But before the evening mists quite enveloped us, and the last glow left the 
Mediterranean, we had a broad panorama of the summits of hills and mountains 
towards the south. It was a singularly bleak prospect, not unlike the outlook over 
the Cheviots from one of the higher peaks of the Border range. The hills were nearly 
denuded of trees, and the scrub upon them was diversified with patches of brilliant 
green and a bright crimson, grass and clover of an excellent kind, vamable to 
agriculturists. North, however, a dark cloud was upon the mountains of the interior, 
and it was evident rain was falling. 

Few cities have such a magnificent promenade as the Via Bellavista of 
Catanzaro. The road skirts the edge of the precipice by which the city is built, 
and the broad river-bed at its base seems dwindled to a ribbon's width. Hither, 
at sundown, the citizens and their wives and daughters come to take the air, 
enjoy the view, see and be seen. The ladies of Catanzaro have long had a 
reputation for their beauty. When the French soldiers were quartered here in the 
Napoleonic wars the officers were delighted to find that it was a custom (breach of 
which implied extreme discourtesy) for acquaintances of both sexes to kiss each 
other as a formal method of salutation. They thought no more of it than if they 
had merely put hand to hand. In his memoirs of the war in Calabria one of 



these officers describes the winning way iu which the fair girls of Catanzaro, upon 
an introduction, were wont to make tender of their lips. 

Alas, however ! the spirit of progress which has breathed over Calabria in so 
many directions during the last century has wrought a change iu this respect also. 
The manners of the young ladies of Catanzaro to-day do not differ much from 
those of the Neapolitans, and it is no longer the custom to kiss a stranger at sight. 
Otherwise it is probable the excursion agents of the ribald North of Europe would be 
quick to advertise tours to this fascinating spot. For my part, I was fain to believe 
the ladies of the city are not as beautiful as their fame. It might have been 

Policoro, JBasilicata. 

different if they had shown the old interest in a stranger. But they showed none, as 
a matter of fact. They moved up and down the promenade in their stiff, unbecoming 
finery and tall Paris hats, chattering so fast that the swallows, gyrating athwart 
the face of Catanzaro's cliffs, seemed to hold their babble for a challenge, and screamed 
loud in their turn. Nevertheless, for their long, exuberant black hair, and their 
expressive dark eyes, the ladies of Catanzaro still deserve to be praised. 

Cotrone is distant from Catanzaro about thirty-seven miles by the railway. 
It is another of the famous cities of Magna Grsecia, with a history receding 
almost to fabulous times. In the nineteenth century after Christ it is but a 
puny place compared to what it was some five centuries before the Christian era. 
Its population of to-day, all told, is not reckoned more than ten thousand, but 
in the year 510 B.C., as Croton, it is said to have been able to put an army of a 
hundred thousand men in the field. Perhaps, however, this included mercenary 
troops as well as Crotonians. 

All the land adjacent to Cotrone and Taranto is sacred to the memory of 
Hannibal and the Koman consuls who patriotically opposed him, with such varying 



The Castle, Cotrone. 

success. By that time Cotrone, or Croton, had passed the zenith of its importance. 
But it was still an aristocratic city when it fell into the hands of the Carthaginians, 
early in the long duel between Carthage and Koine. In the third century B.C. 
Cotrone was, according to Livy, twelve thousand paces in circuit. It was a place of 
visitation for votaries of the Lacinian Juno, whose temple stood on the modern Capo 
delle Colonne, some six miles distant. Of this temple, nestled in a belt of trees, 
the resort of people from far and near, and in the sacred demesne attached to which 
flocks and herds consecrated to the goddess were pastured unattended by a shepherd, 
nothing remains except one column and sundry disconnected masses of masonry. 
After a manner very common in the countries of the Mediterranean, the veneration 
in which the temple of the Laciniau Juno was held is perpetuated in the regard of 
a somewhat similar kind which the local inhabitants feel for the Christian church 
that has superseded it. Instead of a temple to Juno there is a church to the 
Madonna of the Cape, and thither the girl-children of the district periodically go 
bare-footed in procession, to make their vows and petitions to " the Mother of God." 

The river, which Livy mentions as dividing the city of Cotrone, is clearly 
indicated in the artist's drawing. Sometimes it has much water in it, and sometimes 
it has little or none. 

In the year 1806, when Calabria, like the rest of Europe, was full of conflicting 
troops, Cotrone, then in possession of the Bourbons, was besieged by the French. 
The blockade was so close that provisions fell short, and there seemed no hope 











for the city except in surrender. It chanced at this conjuncture that an English 
frigate appeared in the offing. By some means or other it was necessary to advise 
the commander of the ship of the situation of the besieged, that these might profit 
hy our alliance with the deposed king of Naples. Three men undertook the 
mission. They stripped, and entered the river, which the rains had fairly filled 
with water. Thus they reached its point of junction with the sea. Here the 
French saw and fired at them. One was killed, and the second was wounded. But 
the third swam on, and eventually reached the frigate. By this means the garrison 
of Cotrone were saved. They were able to embark on the ship, and afterwards the 
city surrendered to the French. 

Seven years previously Cotrone had suffered horribly at 
the hands of the Bourbon leader, Cardinal lluffo. It was 
then held by only thirty-two French soldiers, veterans from 
the army of Egypt. Buffo was assured of 
re-possessing it for Ferdinand. The cardinal, a 
brutal fellow of mean crigin and bad 

Slraiia Garibaldi, Taranlo. 


character, refused all terms to the besieged, and the city was taken by assault. The 
sack lasted two days, tin- Bourbon soldiers being licensed to commit every conceivable 
.nit rage upon the miserable Cotronians. When aU was over, the cardinal, in purple 
vestments, celebrated mass before his troops, whom he formally absolved from the 
sins they had committed during the last few hours; and he blessed them as a 
stimulus to new deeds of the same kind. It may be imagined that the other cities 
of Calabria took good heed how they engaged in conflict with this ecclesiastic. 

One may, recall these and the other various vicissitudes of the city at one's 
ease, and with considerable pleasure, after the evening meal in Cotrone's little inn, 
or even over the macaroni and wine at table. There is a tendency to fancy that the 
Calabrians are rogues in their treatment of strangers, as their grandsires used to 
be. It is not so really. Perhaps it is because they see so few : they do not know 
how precious a booty they are. Certainly I, for one, had no need to keep in mind 
the warning proffered to me by a Calabrian about his fellow-countrymen: "If you 
would not be cheated by them, you must cheat them." At the hotels the cost of 
your bedchamber is placarded over the head of the bed; nor are you defrauded by 
preposterous and vague items in your bill. This is quite charming to the traveller 
fresh from Neapolitan inns. And he is thus half-disposed to leave Calabria (like 
Hannibal when he was summoned hence to Carthage, as the last hope of the state) 
with groans and lamentations about the uncertainty of the future. 

This maritime district of south Italy is associated wit^h the name of another 
warrior, whom Hannibal regarded as the superior of both Scipio and himself, the 
great Pyrrhus. Tarentum, at war with Rome, called Pyrrhus to her aid, as a general 
" of ability and character." Pyrrhus had no particular regard for the Tarentines, 
but he was quick to accept this opportunity to extend his fame and enlarge his 
empire. To Tarentum therefore he sailed, with troops and elephants. He did not 
think much of the Tarentines themselves, who " sat still at home, and spent their 
time about the baths or in feasting and idle talk, as expecting that he would fight 
for them." As a remedy for this, he therefore, as Plutarch tells us, " shut up the 
places of exercise, and the walks where they used, as they sauntered along, to 
conduct the war with words. He also put a stop to their unseasonable entertainments, 
revels, and diversions. Instead of these, he called them to arms, and in his musters 
and reviews was severe and inexorable ; so that many of them quitted the place ; 
for, being unaccustomed to be under command, they called that a slavery which 
was not a life of pleasure." This done, he prepared to meet the Romans under the 
Consul Lsevinus. He marched inland, towards the level ground between Heraclea 
and Pandosia, where he found the enemy in battle array ready for him. Policoro 
commemorates the scene of his victory. The Romans are said to have lost fifteen 
thousand men, and Pyrrhus thirteen thousand ; the honour of the day being with the 



elephants, who broke the Roman legions. These plains between the mountains of 
Calabria and the Apennines more to the north were admirable battle-fields. The hills 
by Eocca Imperiale and Monte Pollino have seen many a fray of which history 
has no record ; and the long grass and the grain and wild olives of Sybaris and 
Policoro may almost be said to be nourished on the human blood in their soil. 

About modern Taranto, the survival of that great Tarentum for which Hannibal 
and Home wrestled for years, and which in B.C. 209 yielded so immense a booty to 


the Roman treasury, not much can be said here. It is a city of Puglia, not 
Calabria, celebrated for its oysters, and for that matchless inertia which sits so 
gracefully upon the southern Italian. The view of Strada Garibaldi, in the engraving, 
is Santa Lucia of Naples on a small scale. One sees here the same dark-skinned 
and dark-eyed happy-go-lucky bipeds, content to sit chattering on chairs in the 
shade from sunrise to sunset ; the same dirt and gaiety ; the same tall houses with 
balconies, and parti-coloured counterpanes, sheets, blankets, or washed linen suspended 
from the windows to dry in the sun. 

Dame Nature has been civiller to few habitable sites than to Taranto. Its 
position on an island between the living Mediterranean and a little inland sea (the 
" Mare Clausum "), placid as a lagoon, is delightful and convenient. Bridges connect 
the old town with its fairer suburbs and the mainland at either extremity. 



According to Horace, 

No >|.ni s ( i joyous ... of this \vidc glulir's extended shores." 

1 5 ut one must not come to Tarauto for types of Calabrian men and women. 
It inav, however, be confessed in conclusion, that even the legitimate Calabrians of 
the mountains arc a little disappointing to a person in search of muscular individuals. 
The men are less conspicuously robust than the women. This may be due to the 
old practice whereby the women do more field-work than the men. But the men 
themselves, though undersized, are active and enduring; and, like all Highlanders, 
they are taller than their lowland neighbours. The most characteristic feature of 
their garb is a little black sugar-loaf hat, with a narrow brim, from which hang three 
or four short leather tags. Their jacket and knee-breeches are black, like the national 
hat, so that their general appearance is somewhat sinister. 

But, of course, it is only a question of time ere the little black hat and all 
their other eccentricities (agreeable or otherwise) shall utterly disappear. The other 
day two Calabrians disputed about the dignity of carrying the baldaquin in a church 
procession: the one stabbed the other so that he died. The old passionate blood 
of their brigandage days boiled for a moment, and this was the outcome. So with 
their costumes. A hundred years hence perhaps a few of their local peculiarities 
will survive, as traditions of the home land, in the Argentine territory of South 
America. But it is probable that the tailors of a united Italy will, long ere then, 
have set hard and fast chains of dull convention upon the Calabrians of Calabria. 


Rocca Imperials* 

Washing-place outside the Walls, Almcria. 


"1 MALAGA has been very differently described and appreciated. The Arab chroniclers 
who knew it in the palmy days of the Moorish domination considered it " a 
most beautiful city, densely peopled, large and most excellent." Some rose to 
poetical rhapsody in describing it; they praised it as "the central jewel of a 
necklace, a land of paradise, the pole star, the diadem of the moon, the forehead 
of a bewitching beauty unveiled." A Spanish poet was not less eloquent, and sang 
of Malaga as "the enchantress, the home of eternal spring, bathed by the soft sea, 
nestling amidst flowers." Ford, on the other hand, that prince of guide-book 
makers, who knew the Spain of his day intimately from end to end, rather despised 
Malaga. He thought it a fine but purely commercial city, having " few attractions 
beyond climate, almonds and raisins, and sweet wine." Malaga has made great 
strides nevertheless in the forty-odd years since Ford so wrote of it. While 
preserving many of the charming characteristics which evoked such high-flown 
encomiums in the past, it has developed considerably in trade, population, and 
importance. It grows daily ; building is constantly in progress, new streets are added 
year after year to the town. Its commerce flourishes ; its port is filled with shipping 
which carry off its many manufactures: chocolate, liquorice, porous jars, and clay 
figures, the iron ores that are smelted on the spot ; the multifarious products of its 
fertile soil, which grows in rich profusion the choicest fruits of the earth : grapes, 
melons, plantains, guava, quince, Japanese medlars, oranges, lemons, and prickly pears. 
All the appliances and luxurious aids to comfort known to our latter-day civilisation 


loc. 77/7'; PICTl'i;i-:s< t X'l-: MEDITERRANEAN. 

are to be found in Malaga : several tlicatres, one of tlioin an opera house, clubs, 
grand hotels, bankers, English doctors, cabs. It rejoices too in an indefeasible and 
priceless gift, a nearly perfect climate, the driest and balmiest in Southern Europe. 
Rain falls in Malaga but half a dozen days in the year, and its winter sun would 
shame that of an English summer. It has a southern aspect, and is sheltered from 
the north by an imposing range of mountains; its only trouble is the terral or 
north-west wind, the same disagreeable visitor as that known on the Italian Eiviera 
as the Tramontana, and in the south of France as the Mistral. These climatic 
advantages have long recommended Malaga as a winter health resort for delicate 
and consumptive invalids, and an increasingly successful rival to Madeira, Malta, and 
Algiers. The general view of this city of siinshine, looking westward, to which point 
it lies open, is pleasing and varied ; luxuriant southern vegetation, aloes, palmetto, 
and palms, fill up the foreground ; in the middle distance are the dazzling white 
facades and towers of the town, the great amphitheatre of the bull ring, the tall 
spire of the Cathedral a very conspicuous object, the whole set off by the dark 
blue Mediterranean, and the reddish-purple background of the Sierra Berrneja or 
Vermilion Hills. 

There is active enjoyment to be got in and near Malaga as well as the mere 
negative pleasure of a calm, lazy life amid beautiful scenes. It is an excellent point 
of departure for interesting excursions. Malaga lies on the fringe of a country full of 
great memories, and preserving many curious antiquarian remains. It is within easy 
reach by rail of Granada and the world-renowned Alhambra, whence the ascent of 
the great southern snowy range, the Sierra Nevada, may be made with pleasurable 
excitement and a minimum of discomfort. Other towns closely associated with 
great events may also be visited : Alhama, the mountain key of Granada, whose 
capture preluded that of the Moorish capital and is enshrined in Byron's beautiful 
verse ; Honda, the wildly picturesque town lying in the heart of its own savage 
hills; Almeria, Antequera, Archidona, all old Moorish towns. By the coast road 
westward, a two days' ride, through Estepona and Marbella, little seaside towns 
bathed by the tideless Mediterranean, Gibraltar may be reached, the great rock 
fortress won by English daring and held by English pluck for nearly two hundred 
years. Inland, a day's journey, are the baths of Caratraca, delightfully situated in 
a narrow mountain valley, a cleft of the rugged hill, and famous throughout Spain. 
The waters are akin to those of Harrogate, and are largely patronised by crowds of 
the bluest-blooded hidalgos, the most fashionable people, Spaniards from La Corte 
(Madrid), and all parts of the Peninsula. Yet another series of riding excursions 
be made into the wild Alpujarras, a desolate and uncultivated district gemmed 
with bright oases of verdure, which are best reached by the coast road leading from 
Malaga through Velez Malaga, Motril to Adra, and which is perhaps the pleasantest 



route to Granada itself. On one side is the dark -blue sea; on the other, vine-clad 

hills: this is a land, to use Ford's words, "overflowing with oil and wine; here is 

the palm without the desert, the sugar-cane without the slave;" old Moorish castles 

perched like eagles' eyries crown the 

hills ; helow cluster the spires and towers 

of churches and convents, hemmed in 

by the richest vegetation. The whole of 

this long strip of coast is rich with the 

alluvial deposits brought down by the 

mountain torrents from the snowy Sierras 

above ; in spring time, before the summer 

heats have parched the land, everything 

flourishes here, the sweet potato, indigo, 

sugar-cane and vine; masses of wild 

flowers in innumerable gay colours, the 

blue iris, the crimson oleander, geraniums, 

and luxuriant festoons of maidenhair 


Coast Road near Adra, 

ferns bedeck 
the landscape 
around. It is 
impossible to exaggerate 
the delights of these riding trips ; 
the traveller relying upon his 
horse, which carries a modest kit, 

enjoys a strange sense of independence : he can go on or stop, as he chooses, lengthen 
or shorten his day's journey, which takes him perpetually and at the leisurely pace 




Malaga, from the Alcazalia. 

which permits ample observation of the varied views. The scene changes constantly : 
now he threads a half-dried watercourse, thick with palmetto and gum cistus ; now 
he makes the slow circuit of a series of little rocky bays washed by the tideless calm 
of the blue sea ; now he breasts the steep slope, the seemingly perilous ascent of bold 
cliffs, along which winds the track made centuries since when the most direct was 
deemed the shortest way to anywhere in spite of the difficulties that intervened. 

Malaga as a seaport and place of settlement can claim almost fabulous antiquity. 
It was first founded by the Phoenicians three thousand years ago, and a continuous 
existence of thirty centuries fully proves the wisdom of their choice. Its name is 
said to be Phoenician, and is differently derived from a word meaning salt, and 
another which would distinguish it as "the king's town." From the earliest ages 
Malaga did a thriving business in salt fish ; its chief product and export were the 
same anchovies and the small boquerones, not unlike an English whitebait, which are 
still the most highly prized delicacies of the Malaga fish market. Southern Spain 
\\.-is jiniong the richest and most valued of Phoenician possessions. It was a mine of 
wealth to them, the Tarshish of Biblical history from which they drew such vast 
supplies of the precious metals that their ships carried silver anchors. Hiram, King 
of Tyre, was a sort of goldsmith to Solomon, furnishing the wise man's house with 
such stores of gold and silver utensils that silver was " accounted nothing therein," as 
we read in the First Book of Kings. When the star of Tyre and Sidon waned, and 









Cartha-e became the great commercial centre of the Mediterranean, it controlled the 
mineral wealth of Spain ami traded largely with Malaga. Later, when Spain passed 
entirely into Roman hands, this southern province of Boetica grew more and more 
valuable, and the wealth of the country passed through its ports eastward to the 
great marts of the world. Malaga, however, was never the equal either in wealth or 
commeirial importance of its more eastern and more happily placed neighbour Almeria. 
The latter was the once famous " Portus Magnus," or Great Port, which monopolised 
most of the maritime traffic with Italy and the more distant East. But Malaga rose 
in prosperity as Roman settlers crowded into Boetica, and Roman remains excavated 
in and around the town attest the size and importance of the place under the 
Unmans. It was a municipium, had a fine amphitheatre, the foundations of which 
were laid bare long afterwards in building a convent, while many bronzes, fragments 
of statuary, and Roman coins found from time to time prove the intimate relations 
between Malaga and the then Mistress of the World. The Goths, who came next, 
overran Boetica, and although their stay was short, they rechristened the province, 
which is still known by their name, the modern Audal-, or Vandalucia. Malaga was 
a place of no importance in the time of the Visigoths, and it declined, only to rise 
with revived splendour under the Moors, when it reached the zenith of its greatness, 
and stood high in rank among the Hispano-Mauresque cities. 

It was the same one-eyed Berber General, Tarik, who took Gibraltar who was 
the first Moorish master of Malaga. Legendary story still associates a gate in the 
old Moorish castle, the Gibralfaro, with the Moorish invasion. This Puerta de la Cava 
was called, it has been said, after the ill-used daughter of Count Julyan whose 
wrongs led to the appeal to Moorish intervention. But it is not known historically 
that Count Julyan had a daughter named La Cava, or any daughter at all ; nor is 
it likely that the Moors would remember the Christian maiden's name as sponsor for 
the gate. After the Moorish conquest Malaga fell to the tribes that came from the 
river Jordan, a pastoral race " who extended their rule to the open lands as far as 
Archidona. The richness of their new possession attracted great hordes of Arabs 
from their distant homes ; there was a general exodus, and each as it came to the 
land of promise settled where they found anything that recalled their distant homes. 
Thus the tribes from the deserts of Palmyra found a congenial resting-place on the 
arid coast near Almeria and the more rugged kingdom of Murcia; the Syrian 
mountaineers established themselves amidst the rocky fastness of the Ronda Serrania ; 
while those from Damascus and Bagdad revelled in the luxuriant beauty of the 
fertile plains watered by the Xenil and Darro, the great Vega, with its orange-groves 
and jewelled gardens that still make Granada a smiling paradise. 

These Moslem conquerors were admirable in their administration and development 
of the land they seized, quick to perceive its latent resources and make the most 



of them. Malaga itself became the court and seat of government of a powerful 
dynasty whose realms extended inland as far as Cordova, and the region around 
grew under their energetic and enlightened management into one great garden 
teeming with the most varied vegetation. What chiefly commended Malaga to the 
Moors was the beauty of its climate and the amazing 
fertility of the soil. The first was a God-sent gift, 
the latter made unstinting return for the labour freely 
but intelligently applied. Water was and still is the 
great need of those thirsty and nearly rainless southern 
lauds, and the Moorish methods of irrigation, ample 
specimens of which still sur- 
vive, were most elaborate and 
effective contrivances for dis- 
tributing the fertilising fluid. 
Many of these ancient systems 
of irrigation are still at work 
at Murcia, Valencia, Granada, 
and elsewhere. The Moors 
were masters of hydraulic 
science, which was never more 
widely or intelligently prac- 
tised than in the East. So 
the methods adopted and still 
seen in Spain have their 
Oriental prototypes and counterparts. 
They varied, of course, with the cha- 
racter of the district to be irrigated 
and the sources of supply. Where 
rivers and running water gave the 
material, it was conveyed in canals ; 
one main trunk-line or artery supplied 
the fluid to innumerable smaller water- 
courses or veins, the acequias, which formed a reticulated network of minute 
ramifications. The great difficulty in the plains, and this was especially the case 
about Malaga, was to provide a proper fall, which was effected either by carrying 
the water to a higher level by an aqueduct or sinking in below the surface in 
subterranean channels. Where the water had to be raised from underground, the 
simple pole, on which worked an arm or lever with a bucket, was used, the identical 
"shadoof" of the Nile; or the more elaborate water-wheel, the Arab Anaoura, a 

La Conception, Malaga. 


name still pressed in the Spanish N*ria } one of which is figured in the Almeria 
washing-place, where it serves the gossiping lavandera* at their work. In these 
llon:ls the motive power is usually that of a patient ox, which works a revolving 
Wheel, and so turns a second at right angles armed with jars or buckets. These 

descend in turn, coming up 
charged with water, which 
falls over into a reservoir or 
pipe, whence it flows to do 
its business below. 

Under this admirable 
system the land gives forth 
perpetual increase. It knows 
no repose. Nothing lies fal- 
low. " Man is never weary 
of sowing, nor the sun ot 
calling into life." Crop suc- 
ceeds crop with astonishing 
rapidity; three or four har- 
vests of corn are reaped 
in the year, twelve or fifteen 
of clover and lucerne. All 


kinds of fruit abound; the 
margins of the watercourses 
blossom with flowers that 
would be prized in an Eng- 
lish hothouse, and the most 
marvellous fecundity pre- 
vails. By these means the 
Moors of Malaga, the most 
scientific and successful of 
gardeners, developed to the 
utmost the marvellously pro- 
lific soil. Moorish writers 
described the pomegranates 
of Malaga as red as rubies, and unequalled in the whole world. The brevas, 
or small green figs, were of exquisitely delicious flavour, and still merit that 
encomium. Grapes were a drug in the markets, cheap as dirt ; while the raisins 
into which they were converted, by a process that dates back to the Phoanicians, 
found their way into the far East and were famous in Palestine, Arabia, and 

Street beneath the Alcazar, Malaga. 



beyond. The vineyards of the Malaga district, a wide tract embracing all the 
southern slopes towards the Mediterranean, were, and still are, the chief source 
of its wealth. The wine of Malaga could tempt even Mohammedan Moors to 
forget their prophet's prohibition ; it was so delicious that a dying Moor when 
commending his soul to God asked for only two blessings in Paradise, enough to 
drink of the wines of Malaga and Seville. As the " Mountains," this same wine 
was much drunk and appreciated by our forefathers. To this day "Malaga" is largely 
consumed, both dry and sweet, especially that known as the Lagrimas, or Tears, a 
cognate term to the famous Lachrymse Christ! of Naples, and which are the very 
essence of the rich ripe grapes, which are hung up in the sun till the juice flows from 
them in luscious drops. Orange groves and lemon groves abound in the Vega, and the 
fruit is largely exported. The collection and packing are done at points along the line 
of railway to which Malaga is the maritime terminus, as at La Pizarra, a small but 
important station which is the starting point for the Baths of Caratraca, and the 
mountain ride to Eonda through the magnificent pass of El Burgo. Of late years 
Malaga has become a species of market garden, in which large quantities of early 
vegetables are raised, the primeurs of French gourmets, the young peas, potatoes, 
asparagus, and lettuce, which are sent north to Paris during the winter mouths by 
express trains. This is probably a more profitable business than the raising of the 
sugar-cane, an industry introduced (or more exactly, revived, for it was known to and 
cultivated by the Moors) in and around Malaga by the well-known General Concha, 
Marques del Duero. He spent the bulk of a large fortune in developing the cane 
cultivation, and almost ruined himself in this patriotic endeavour. Others benefited 

Alincria, from the East. 



largt -iv l>y his well-meant enterprise, ami the sugar fields of southern Spain prospered 
until the (leriiian beet sugar drove the hoine-growii hard. The climate of Malaga, 
with its great dryness and absolute iininunity from frost, is exceedingly favourable 
to the growth of the sugar-cane, and the sugar fields at the time of the cutting are 
picturesque centres of activity. The best idea, however, of the amazing fertility of 
this gifted country will be obtained from a visit to one of the private residential 
estates, or Jincnx, such as that of La Concepcion, where palms, bamboos, arums, 
cicads and other tropical plants thrive bravely in the open air. It is only a short 
drive, and is well worth a visit. The small Grecian temple (see the illustration) 
is full of Roman remains, chiefly from Cartama, the site of a great Roman city 
which Livy has described. Some of these remains are of beautiful marble figures, 
which were found, like ordinary stones, built into a prison wall and rescued with 
some difficult}'. The Malaga authorities annexed them, thinking they contained 
gold, then threw them away as old rubbish. Other remains at La Concepcion are 
fragments of the Roman municipal law, on bronze tablets, found at Osuua, 
between Autequera and Seville. 

Malaga possesses many mementoes of the Moors besides their methods of 
irrigation. The great citadel which this truly militant race erected upon the chief 
point of vantage and key to the possession of Malaga still remains. This, the Castle 
of Gibralfaro, the rock of the lighthouse, was built by a prince of Granada, Mohammed, 

upon the site of a Phoenician fortress, and it was so strongly fortified and held that 

it long resisted the strenuous efforts of Ferdinand and Isabella in the memorable 

siege which prefaced the fall of Granada. How disgracefully the Catholic kings 
ill-treated the conquered Moors of Malaga, condemning them to slavery or the 
<in to daft-, may be read in the pages of Prescott. The towers of the Gibralfaro still 
standing have each a story of its own : one was the atalaya, or watch-tower ; on 
another, that of La Vela, a great silver cross was erected when the city surrendered. 
Below the Gibralfaro, but connected with it and forming part of the four deep city 
walls, is the Alcazaba, another fortification utilised by the Moors, but the fortress 
they raised stands upon Phosuiciau foundations. The illustrations plainly show how 
this now ruined but still stalwart citadel dominated the lower town ; in one it 
overlooks even the tall tower of the cathedral, in the other rises menacing against 
the sky-line, and its lofty outlines merge in the still higher Gibralfaro. The quarter 
that lies below these Moorish strongholds is the most ancient part of Malaga, a 
wilderness of dark, winding alleys of Oriental aspect, and no doubt of Moorish 
origin. This is the home of the lower classes, of the turbulent masses who 
have in all ages been a trial and trouble to the authorities of the time. The 
Malagueiios, the inhabitants of Malaga, whether Moors or Spaniards, have ever 
h<-<-n rebellious subjects of their liege lords and uncomfortable neighbours to one 

MALAGA. 115 

another. lu all their commotions they have generally espoused the cause which has 
ultimately failed. 

Thus, iu 1831, Kiego and Torrijos having heen in open revolt against the 
Government, were lured into embarking for Malaga from Gibraltar, where they had 
assembled, by its military commandant Moreno, and shot down to a man on the 
beach below the Carmen Convent. Among the victims was an Englishman, Mr. 
Boyd, whose unhappy fate led to sharp protests from England. Since this massacre 
a tardy tribute has been raised to the memory of the slain ; it stands in the shape 
of a monument in the Plaza de Kiego, the Alarneda. Again, Malaga sided witli 
Espartero in 18!3, when he "pronounced" but had to fly into exile. Once more, in 
1868, the Malagueiios took up arms upon the losing side, fighting for the dethroned 
Isabella Segunda against the successful soldiers who had driven her from Madrid. 
Malaga was long and obstinately defended, but eventually succumbed after a sanguinary 
struggle. Last of all, after the abdication of Amadeus in 1873, the Eepublicans of 
Malaga rose, and carried their excesses so far as to establish a Communistic regime, 
which terrorised the town. The troops disbanded themselves, their weapons were 
seized by the worst elements of the population, who held the reins of power, the 
local aiithorities having taken to flight. The mob laid hands on the custom-house 
and all public moneys, levied contributions upon the more peaceable citizens, then 
quarrelled among themselves and fought out their battles in the streets, sweeping 
them with artillery fire, and threatening a general bombardment. Order was not 
easily restored or without the display of armed force, but the condign punishment of 
the more blameworthy has kept Malaga quiet ever since. 

While the male sex among the masses of Malaga enjoy an indifferent reputation, 
her daughters of all classes are famed for their attractiveness, even in Spain, the 
home, par excellence, of a well-favoured race. " Muchachas Malaguenas, muy 
halagueuas " (the girls of Malaga are most bewitching) is a proverbial expression, the 
truth of which has been attested by many appreciative observers. Theophile Gautier's 
description of them is perhaps the most complimentary. The Malagueila, he tells 
us, is remarkable for the even tone of her complexion (the cheek having no more 
colour than the forehead), the rich crimson of her lips, the delicacy of her nostril, 
and above all the brilliancy of her Arab eyes, which might be tinged with henna, 
they are so languorous and so almond-shaped. " I cannot tell whether or not it was 
the red draperies of their headgear, but their faces exhibited gravity combined with 
passion that was quite Oriental in character." Gautier drew this picture of the 
Malaguenas as he saw them at a bull-fight, and he expresses a not unnatural 
surprise that sweet, Madonna-like faces, which might well inspire the painter of 
sacred subjects, should look on unmoved at the ghastly episodes of the blood-stained 
ring. It shocked him to see the deep interest with which these pale beauties 


////; i'K "ri'iti-:w t )i'i-: MEDITERRANEAN. 

follow,.,! tlu- fight, to li.-ai- the feats of the arena discussed by s\veet lips that might 
B peak more suitably of softer things. Yet he found them simple, tender-hearted, 
good, and concluded that it was not cruelty of disposition but the custom of 
the country that drew them to this savage show. Since then the bull-tight, 
shorn, however, of its worst horrors, has become acclimatised and most popular 
amidst M. (iautier's own country-women in Paris. That the beauty of the higher 
ranks rivals that of the lowest may be inferred from the fact that a lady whose 
ohanns were once celebrated throughout Europe is of Malaguenau descent. The 

Malaga Harbour. 

mother of the Empress Eugenie, who shared with Napoleon III. the highest honours 
in France, was a Malaga girl, a Miss Fitzpatrick, the daughter of the British consul, 
but she had also Spanish blood in her veins. 

Malaga might count on a prosperous future if she had a more commodious 
and more trustworthy port. The great complaint against the harbour is the steady 
retrocession of the sea. One cause of this is said to he the city river, the Guadel- 
nu'dina, which traverses the town, and although almost an empty watercourse during 
drought, wintry floods in the upper lands convert it into a raging torrent laden with 
solid detritus. These deposits are gradually filling up the harbour, continuing the 
process which left the old Moorish mole and the Moorish arsenal, the Ataranza, far 
inland. A century ago the site of the Alameda, now a gay promenade shaded by 
well -grown trees, was still submerged under the sea. An admirable project for the 
improvement of the port by cleansing and deepening it was prepared some years 
ago, and would have done wonders for Malaga. But difficulties supervened, litigation 










delayed the undertaking, and probably it will never be carried oi;t now. A near 
neighbour and old rival, as richly endowed, may again pass Malaga in the great race for 
commercial expansion. This is Almeria, which lies farther eastward and which owns 
many natural advantages; its exposed port has been improved by the construction 
of piers and breakwaters, and it now offers a secure haven to the shipping that 
should ere long be attracted in increasing tonnage to carry away the rich products 
of the neighbouring districts. Almeria is the capital of a province teeming with 
mineral wealth, and whose climate and soil favour the growth of the most varied and 
valuable crops. The silver mines of the mountains of Murcia and the fertile valleys 
of the Alpuj arras would find their best outlet at Almeria, while Granada would once 
more serve as its farm. So ran the old proverb, "When Almeria was really Almeria, 
Granada was only its alqueria," or source of supply. What this time-honoured 
but almost forgotten city most needs is to be brought into touch with the railway 
systems of Spain. Several lines projected for this purpose are now in progress; 
but the work, which has already received State assistance to the extent of 
twenty-five per cent, on the total estimated cost, is slow and still uncompleted. 
Meanwhile, Almeria, awaiting better fortune, thrives on the exports of its own 
products, chief among which are grapes and esparto. The first has a familiar 
sound to British ears, from the green grapes known as " Almerias," which are 
largely consumed in British households. These are not equal to the delicately 

flavoured Muscatels, but they are stronger and will bear the packing and rough 


usages of exportation under which the others perish. Esparto is a natural product 
of these favoured lands, which, after long supplying local wants, has now become an 
esteemed item in our list of British imports. It is known to botanists as the 
Spanish rush, or bass feather grass, the Genet d'Espagne, and is compared by Ford 
to the "spear grass which grows on the sandy sea-shores of Lancashire." It is 
still manufactured, as in the days of Pliny, into matting, baskets, ropes, and the 
soles for the celebrated Alpargatas, or rope sandal shoes, worn universally by Spanish 
peasants in the south and Spanish soldiers on the line of march. The ease and 
speed with which the Spanish infantry cover long distances are greatly attributed 
to their comfortable chaussures. Nowadays a much wider outlet has been found 
for esparto grass. When rags became more and more scarce and unequal to the 
demands of the paper-makers, experiments were made with various substitutes, and 
none answered the purpose better than the wild spear-grass of southern Spain. It 
is now grown artificially, and forms a principal export. 

Almeria, while awaiting the return of maritime prosperity, can look with some 
complacency upon a memorable if not altogether glorious past. Its very names, 
Portus Magnus under the Komans, and Al Meriah, the " Conspicuous," under the 
Moors, attest its importance. All the agricultural produce of the prolific Vega, the 



silks that were woven on Moorish looms and highly prized through the East, were 
brought to Almeria for transmission ahroad. The security and convenience of this 
famous port gave it an evil reputation in after years, when it became an independent 
kingdom under Ibn Maymum. Almeria was the terror of the Mediterranean ; its pirate 
galleys roved to and fro, making descents upon the French and Italian coasts, and 
carrying back their booty, slaves, and prizes to their impregnable home. Spaniards 
and Genoese presently combined against the common enemy, and Almeria was one of 
the earliest Christian conquests regained from the Moors. Later still the Algerian 
Moors took fresh revenge, and their corsairs so constantly threatened Almeria that 

Waggons with Esparlo Grass at Almeria. 

Charles V. repaired its ancient fortifications, the old Moorish castle now called the 
Alcazaba, the centre or keep, and hung a great tocsin bell upon its cathedral tower 
to give notice of the pirates' approach. This cathedral is the most imposing object 
in the decayed and impoverished town. Pigs and poultry roam at large in the 
streets, amidst dirt and refuse ; but in the strong sunlight, white and blinding as 
in Africa, the mean houses glisten brightly, and the abundant colour seen on 
awnings and lattice, upon the women's skirts and kerchiefs, in the ultramarine sea, 
is brought out in the most vivid and beautiful relief. 

The scenery on the coast from Malaga eastward is fine, in some parts and 
under certain aspects magnificent. Beyond Almeria is the famous Cape de Gatt, as 
it is known to our mariners, the Cabo de Gata of local parlance, the Agate 
Cape, to give it its precise meaning. This remarkable promontory, composed of 
rocks encrusted with gems, is worthy of a place in the "Arabian Nights." There 
are miles and miles of agates and crystal spar, and in One particular spot amethysts 
are found. Wild winds gather and constantly bluster about this richly constituted 


Till-: PICTl T BESQUE M EDIT Kill!. I NK 1 .V. 

luit often storm-tossed landmark. Old sailor s:i\vs have perpetuated its character in 
the Conn of a proverb, "At the Cape de ( lake care of your hat." Other 
portions of the coast nearer Malaga are still more forbidding and dangerous: 
under the Sierra Tejadn, for example, \vliere the rocky liarriers which guard the 
land rise tier almve tier as straight as a wall, in which there are no openings, no 
havens of safety for passing craft in an inshore gale. Behind all, a dim outline 
joining hands as it were with the clouds, lowers the great snowy range of southern 
Spain, the Sierra Nevada, rejoicing in an elevation as high as the Swiss Alps, and 
in some respects far more beautiful. 

There are, however, no such grim glaciers, no such vast snow-fields as in 
Swit/erland, for here in the south the sun has more power, and even at these 
heights only the peaks and pinnacles wear white crests during the summer heats. 
This more genial temperature encourages a richer vegetation, and makes the ascents 
less perilous and toilsome. A member of the Alpine Club would laugh to scorn 
the conquest of Muley Hacen, or of the Picacho de la Veleta, the two crowning 
peaks of the range. The enterprise is within the compass of the most moderate 
effort. The ascent of the last-named and lowest, although the most picturesque, 
is the easiest made, because the road from Granada is most direct. In both cases 
the greatest part of the climbing is performed on horseback ; but this must be 
done a day in advance, and thus a night has to be passed near the summit under 
the stars. The temperature is low, and the travellers can only defend themselves 

I'lii Cal/icttrai, Almena. 



A bit of A I mer ia ; Capo di Gala in 
the distance. 

against the cold by the wraps they have brought and the fuel they can find (mere 
knotted roots) around their windy shelter. The ascent to where the snow still 
lingers, in very dirty and disreputable patches, is usually commenced about two in 
the morning, so that the top may be reached before dawn. If the sky is clear, 
sunrise from the Picacho is a scene that can never be forgotten, fairly competing 
with, if not outrivalling, the most famous views of the kind. The Mediterranean 
lies below like a lake, bounded to the north and west by the Spanish coast, to the 
south by the African, the faintest outlines of which may often be seen in the far, 
dim distance. Eastward the horizon is made glorious by the bright pageants of the 
rising sun, whose majestic approach is heralded by rainbow-hued clouds. All around 
are the strangely jagged and contorted peaks, rolling down in diminishing grandeur 
to the lower peaks that seem to rise from the sea. 

The highest peak of the Sierra Nevada is Muley Hacen, although it has only 
the advantage over the Picacho de la Veleta by about a couple of hundred feet. It 
is a longer and more difficult ascent, but in some ways the most interesting, as it 
can best be reached through the Alpujarras, those romantic and secluded valleys 
which are full of picturesque scenery and of historical associations. The starting 
point, as a general rule, is Trevelez, although the ascent may be equally made from 
Portugos, somewhat nearer Granada. Trevelez is the other side and the most 
convenient coming from Malaga by way of Motril. But no one would take the 
latter route who could travel by the former, which leads through Alhendin, that 
well-known village which is said to have seen the last of the departing Moors. This 
is the point at which Granada is finally lost to view, and it was here that Boabdil, 
the last king of Granada, took his last farewell of the city whose loss he wept 
over, under the scathing sarcasm of his more heroic mother, who told him he 




might well " weep like a \voinau for what he could not defend as a man." Near 
this village is the little hill still known as the site of "El Ultimo Suspiro del Moro, 
the last sigli of the Moor." This same road leads through Laujaron, an enchanting 
spot, posted high upon a spur of the hills, and famous as a bathing place with 
health-giving mineral springs. From Portugos or Trevelez the climb is easy enough : 
to be accomplished a great part of the way on horseback, and in its earlier levels 
ascending amid forests of evergreen oak ; after that, long wastes of barren rock are 
passed, till at length the summit is reached, on a narrow strip of table-land, 
the highest in Southern Europe, and with an unrivalled view. The charm of the 
Muley Hacen peak is its isolation, while the- Picacho looks better from it than 
Muley Hacen does from the Picacho, and there is a longer vista across the 

Mediterranean Sea. 


Packing Lemons at Pizzaria, near Malaga. 



TT^EW scenes in the world are more strikingly magnificent and more historically 
interesting than that on which one looks from the flag-staff battery of the 
Citadel of Corfu, the battery on the higher of the twin peaks, the Aerice Phceacum 
arces of Virgil, which are covered now with the vast and massive fortifications, 
memorials both of the Venetian and of the British protectorates of the Ionian 
Islands. The rocks of the Citadel rise so sheer from the sea that Nelson's plan 
for taking it was to run a ship ashore, and then scale and assault the fortress from 
fore- main- and mizen-topgallant yards. Such were the audacities planned, and 
such were also the audacities achieved, by British admirals in the Napoleonic wars. 
But the stern grandeur of the rocky staircases, barracks, dungeons, and bastions is 
relieved by the green foliage here and there of fig-trees and cypresses ; and very 
pleasant is thus the scene immediately around and below us. But look, now, abroad. 
One sees at once the meaning both of Ape-navy, one of the ancient names of the 
island, and of its modern name, Corfu. The latter is an Italian corruption of Kopufoa, 
the Byzantine name for the island with the Citadel of Peaks, Kopvfyal; and the 
former name means the " Sickle." And seeing the island here in its whole length, 
from Pantoknitor, or San Salvador, its great northern mountain, to Amphipagos, or 


Cape I'i;i!io), its southern ])roiiioiitory, we see that it is really curved like a sickle, 
w jtli the city ami citadel of Corfu jutting out from the middle of its sharp edge, 
it-, inner, or concave line. There is thus so narrow a strait between the two 
promontories of the island and the mainland that the sea within the curve appears 
like a land-locked lake. But what a lake! and what a line of enclosing hills! 
Truly, it is only this Ionian Sea, with its liquid sapphires flashing in countless 
gleams of light, that enables one fully to understand what .Kschylos meant by his 

" Innumerable laughter of sea- wave*." 

And the enclosing bills that rise so steeply from the gleaming shore are the 
mountains of Albania, on which Childe Harold looked : 

" Dusky and huge, enlarging on the sight, 
Nature's volcanic amphitheatre, 
Chimera's Alps extend to left and right." 

But as historically interesting as strikingly magnificent is the scene beheld 
from the citadel of Corfu. We know from Thucydides that there was an established 
tradition in his time which identified the island with the Homeric Scheria, and its 
capital with the city of the Homeric Phasecians ; and the tradition has been persistent 
to this day, notwithstanding the scepticism of a few ancient as well as modern 
critics. Nor is the persistency of such a tradition to be wondered at, seeing that 

Homer's description of the city of the Phaeeciana so remarkably corresponds with 


the actual characteristics of the classical Korkyra and modern Corfu. Thus it runs, 
in Messrs. Butcher and Lang's translation, which I shall use throughout this article 
in my quotations from the Odyssey : " There is a fair haven on either side of the 
town, and narrow is the isthmus, and curved ships are drawn up on both sides of 
the way ; for all the folk have stations for their vessels, each man one for himself. 
And there is the Agore about the goodly temple of Poseidon. . . . For the 
Phaeecians care not for bow nor quiver, but for masts and oars of ships, and gallant 
barks, wherein, rejoicing, they cross the grey sea." No doubt modern criticism has 
shown that the Odyssey is not merely a synthesis of epics (one, for instance, on the 
return of Odysseus, and another on the adventures of Telemachus), but that these 
elementary epics were syntheses of current stories, of which the Phseecian story in 
particular exists in a rough form in a collection of Indian folk-tales, a collection 
dating as far back apparently as the twelfth century B.C. Still it may very well be 
that the poet, in weaving this old folk-story into his epic, sketched the scene of it, 
or some at least of its features, from some place which he had either visited or had 
heard described. "Why," as the late Mr. Herman Merivale pertinently asked, "the 
double haven and the narrow isthmus, and the very characteristic feature of the ships 
drawn up on each side of the road along it, unless the poet had here some real 





spot in liis eye?" This will appear still more probable when wo come to Ithaca, 
and find how extraordinarily accurate are the bard's descriptions there. He must 
certainly have been in Ithaca, and there lit' may well have heard described the more 
characteristic features of the ancient island of the Liburniaus. But not only is 
the Homeric Scheria thus probably identified with an actual island, but the Homeric 
Plueecians may be probably 
identified with an actual 
people. Welcker supposed 
that they were the poet's 
own Ionian fellow-country- 
men ; and Professor Mahaffy 
thinks that they were more 
probably the Phokaeans ; but 
Colonel Mure's conclusion, 
that by the Phseecians the 
Phoenicians were meant, 
seems to me far more prob- 
able- And, as he remarks,* 
the similarity of the epithets 
applied to Phsecians and 
Phoenicians "would be sharp- 
ened by the punning con- 
nection, in the true spirit of 
Homeric humour, between the 
names ^a^/ce? and $oiWe?." I 
must, however, add an ob- 
servation which, as I think, 
is of considerable importance. 
Mr. Flinders Pe trie's " Kacial 
Types from Egypt," in which 
he gives photographs of 

ancient Egyptian ethnographic portraits of the peoples of the Levant of juul anterior 
to the fourteenth century B.C., appear to me to have, in conjunction with certain 
other facts, conclusively shown that the Phoenicians, though they spoke a Semitic 
language, were not a Semitic race. 

Korkyra, anciently the usual local name for Corfu, first appears as Kepwpa in 
Herodotus and Thucydides, and it is in this Attic form that the ancient name has 
been revived, and is now commonly used. The cities, however, which successively 

* "History of Greek Literature." 


The Gate of Corfu. 



i, r :i\f tlic names of Kopicvpa and of Kopvifxo to the island, seem to have occupied different 
sites. Tlie Kerkyra of Herodotus and of Thueydides appears to have been situated 
on the hilly peninsula bet \veeu the two harbours that lie behind the modern town, 
the bays of Kastrudes and Kalichiopoulo, the latter the Hyllaic harbour of Thueydides. 
It was on this peninsula, still known as Palaeopolis, that the Corinthians founded the 
ancient town in the eighth century B.C., the Kerkyra which played so great a part 
in the beginning of the Pelopounesian War (-131 404 B.C.), and which seems to have 
existed till the desolating invasion of Totilas in the sixth century A.D. The 
twin-peaked hill of the modern citadel probably represents the island opposite the 
Heraion, or Temple of Here ; the island of Vido, Ptychia ; and that upper part of 

Cape Ditcato. 

the peninsula, of which the chief building is now the villa of the king and former 
casino of the British Lord High Commissioner, seems to have been the quarter 
occupied by the Demos of the Thucydidiau city. For the oligarchic party were the 
merchant-princes, and they dwelt beside their ships on the low ground along the 
bay of Kastrades, and there was the Agora, and visible from it were the Tombs, 
of which one, that of Menekrates, is still to be seen. And this was the wealthy 
Lower Town which was set on fire during the fierce conflict of its merchant princes 
with the democracy of the Upper Town. Little permanent damage, however, was 
done by this Civil War, if we can believe the picture drawn of the island in 
373 B.C. by Xeuophon. In 229 B.C. Kerkyra lost its independence under a 
Koinan Protectorate; and when the seat of the Roman Empire was removed to 
Constantinople, the island became attached to its eastern division. 

Since the time at least of the Crusades all the historical associations of Corfu 
are with episodes of the age-long war between Europe and Asia. From Corfu llichard 
Coeur de Lion took ship on his return home after his victorious conclusion of the 









I'K "rrilKSQUE MEDITKlti:. I NEA .V. 

Third Crusade (11.):>), and it was this voyage that was the beginning of the 
adventures which, after two shipwrecks, terminated in the discovery at Vienna that 
"Hugh the Merchant" was the great Richard of England, Ireland, and half France, 
and in his consequent imprisonment and holding to ransom. In the partition of the 
Greek Hmpire, the result of the Fourth Crusade, Corfu was annexed by the Latin 
kind's of Naples (12(54); but in 1386 the Corfiotes implored the protection of the 
Imperial Republic of Venice. The local legend explains the Corfiote device of a 
rudderless boat by a story of how the deputation, having gone to sea in such a 
vessel, resolved to consider those to whom wind and waves should first drift them 
their God-appointed protectors. During four centuries, till the fall of the Republic 
in the Napoleonic wars (1797), Corfu was a dependency of Venice. When 
Constantinople fell, in 1453, and all south-eastern Europe was overrun by the Turks, 
Corfu, under the Venetians, remained an impregnable bulwark of Christendom. 
Thrice it defied the whole power of the Ottomans, in 1537, 1570, and, above all, in 
1710, when the Lords of the Mainland made their last great attempt to extend the 
sway of Islam in Europe. Thus, across this narrow, sapphire-gleaming strait, Europe 
has for nearly five hundred years confronted a hostile Asia. And so it is still. From 
the citadel one may see near a low, isolated hill, over which the higher mountains 
tower, the mouth of the river Kalamas, at which begins what is called on the 
official maps of the " Turco-Greek frontier" the "rectification" proposed by the 
Conference of 1880; and close by one may see, if not actually the vessels, the 


anchorage, at least, of two ironclads of the Ottoman fleet, silent but significant 
rejoinders to the proposal of " rectification." 

Very curious and interesting, with their Italian style and Greek names, are the 
narrow streets, with occasional balconies and arcades, as at Padua and Bologna, of 
the modern capital of the island, modern, though its foundation probably dates back to 
but a short time after that desolating invasion of Totilas in the sixth century A.D., in 
which the ancient Korkyra seelns to have been destroyed. And now, from the long, 
narrow, and crowded street, let us pass out of the town, under the archway of the 
old Venetian town-gate, and past the vast mounds of the Venetian and British 
fortifications, for one of many charming excursions into the country. We pass the 
Bay of Govina, with its ruins of the Venetian arsenals and storehouses, and its memories 
of the Turkish disembarkation and re-embarkation after their five or six weeks' desperate 
but fruitless siege of Corfu in 1710. And our drive thence inland for some ten miles is 
through almost continuous groves of olives, not, as in France and Italy, pruned and 
trained orchard trees, but gnarled and massive forest trees. These olive groves, with 
their fruit-laden branches, are interspersed with equally continuous vineyards, which, 
when I drove through, were filled with peasants gathering into deep baskets, for which 
ponies waited, an unusually abundant vintage. Olive groves and vineyards were set in 



ever-varying surroundings of hills, some terraced for vines and olives, others browsed 
over by sheep and goats, with kilted Chimariot shepherds from Albania, carrying, 
even here, their old-fashioned pistols. At length the varying scene reached a climax 
of magnificently mingled grandeur and beauty. The hills struck out into the 
glittering sea in sudden precipitous peninsulas, forming bays with inner curves of sandy 
beach, close down to which were carried still the terraces of olives and vines. 
Crowning one of these rocky peninsulas were the ruins of the feudal castle of St. 
Angelo, built by a prince of the imperial family of Comnentts, who, in establishing 

Vatliy, Ithaca. 

himself as Despot of Albania, and transmitting his principality to his heirs, saved 
for two centuries a fragment at least uf the Greek Empire from the Latin partition 
(1204). And crowning another and nearer promontory was the ancient monastery, 
founded, as its name imports, on the ruins of a fortress still more ancient, the goal 
of our journey, the Monastery of Palseokastritza. 

Leaving Corfu, and proceeding southward in our cruise through the Seven Islands, 
we pass, or better, stop at, the little rocky island of Paxo, with its adjunct Antipaxo. 
But the most picturesque thing about it, and which alone need here detain us, is 
that famous legend told by Plutarch of a voyage made by Epitlierses (the father of 
^Emilian the Rhetorician) to Italy. "When they were still not far from the Echinades 
islands the wind fell, and they were drifting in the evening towards the islands of 



'/'///; /'/< -TCL'I'SQUE MEDlTEUll. 1 NE. I .V. 

1'axi. Tlicn suddenly, as tin- passengers \vriv drinking after supper, a voice \vas heard 
IVnin one of the islands calling on a certain Thainmus so loudly as to fill all with 
ainaxenient. For tins Tliamnms was an Egyptian pilot known to but few on board. 
Twice the voice called on him without response, hut the third time he replied; and 
then the voice said: 'When tlioti comest over against Palodes, announce that the 
Great Pan is dead ! ' Palodes lias with certainty been identified as the Bay of 
Jiutrinto, on the Kpirote coast opposite Corfu, Butrinto, the ancient Buthrotum, the 
scene of the meeting of /Kneas with Andromache, the widow of Hektor. The effect 


of the announcement there of- the death of Pan is alluded to by Milton in line* 
which may, perhaps, even to Browningites, still sound grandly musical: 

"The lonely mountains o'er, 
And the resounding shore, 


A voice of weeping heard, and loud lament; 

From haunted spring and dale, 

Edged with poplar pale, 
The parting genius is with sighing sent; 

With flower-inwoven tresses torn, 
The nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn." 

And as to the origin of the legend, might not voyagers actually have heard some 
enthusiastic Epirote convert to Christianity on a still evening calling out from the 
beach at Paxi, "Spread the tidings that the Great Pan is dead!" 


Cunt inning our voyage southward, we cast anchor off the old castle of Santa 

.Maura, originally built by a Frank noble of the shameful Fourth Crusade, that 

partitioned the Greek Fmpire instead of rescuing the Holy Sepulchre. The name 

of the castle lias, since the thirteenth century, been extended to the whole island, 

called Levkas (Leucas or Leucadia) by the Greeks. The view from the deck is, at 

first, more puzzling than pleasing. This is caused by a spit of sand in the form 

of an S, some four miles long, thrown up probably by an earthquake, and which is 

only separated from the coast of Acarnania by a shallow lagoon. Santa Maura, 

indeed, hardly appears to be an island at all, and originally was actually a 

peninsula. On the mainland, to the left, the long, low promontory of Actium 

juts northwards from under the Acarnanian mountains, enclosing the famous bay 

within which lay for weeks the fleet of Antony and Cleopatra, "like floating castles," 

till clown swept the triremes of Augustus and attacked the great ships of Antony 

as they were coming out of the strait (31 B.C.). And on the northern shore of 

the Bay of Actium we now descry (for it is but nine or ten miles off, across a 

narrow strait of gleaming sea) the domes and minarets of Preveza of the Moslems. 

Presently disembarking, we proceed in a boat up a canal cut in the shallow lagoon 

to the miserable little capital of the island, Amaxiclri ('AfjM&xiov), Cart-town. So 

it was called from the carts or cars ("Arafat) on which the Venetians carried 

down their oil and wine from the inland districts, and which were kept here. 

Its houses are rarely more than two storeys high, and the upper one is constructed 

of wood, on account of the frequent earthquakes. 

There has been a question as to whether Levkas should not be identified with 
the Homeric Doulichiou, which sent forty ships to the war against Troy. Strabo 
supposed Douliciiion to be one of the Echinades, and most modern writers have 
acquiesced in his conclusion, assuming that his epithet, " rich-iii-corn," applied to 
the neighbouring tract of the mainland. "But," says Sir Edward Bunbury, "it 
must be admitted that the explanation is a forced one, and it seems far more simple 
to suppose that the island intended was that of Santa Maura; the only other large 
island of the group, which was known in the historical ages of Greece as Leukas, 
but is never mentioned by that name in Homer. On that supposition, the poet 
would, in this instance, be free from geographical inaccuracies, and would enumerate 
the three principal islands in the natural order of their occurrence." And in 
reference to Strabo's epithet, it seems corroborative of this identification that two 
of the islets, dependencies of Levkas, are, to this day, famous for their wheat, 
which is the finest found in the Ionian Islands. So-called Cyclopean, or, as I 
ould rather say, Archaian, walls cover many rocky eminences. The most ancient 
these remains, on the heights commanding the former isthmus, probably mark 
the Homeric Acropolis of Nerikos. And the more recent of these walls alon- 


the shore certainly belong to the Levkas, built in the seventh century B.C. by 
the Corinthians, who cut through the isthmus and converted the peninsula into 
an island. 

Sappho's Leap at the south-west, and Mount Skaros at the south-east extremity 
of the island, are the two great points of excursion from Amaxikhi. On starting 
for either the one or the other excursion, our road at first lies through the delicious 
shades of a vast olive-grove which stretches up from the shallow lagoon to the 
foot of steeply-rising mountains. Let us take the longer excursion first, that to 
the ruins of the Temple of Apollo, on the summit of the White Cape Jeworres, 
now Cape Ducato, from which Sappho is said to have taken her despairing leap. 
As we ride along, the country often recalls to me Palestine ; the same stony hills 
and basin-like glens, but all terraced here with vineyards, which are filled with 
grape-harvesters. But from the scenery our attention is soon drawn to the parties 
of peasants we meet, driving asses and mules laden with a couple of wine-filled 
goat-skins apiece. The dress of the men consists of footless white hose, light-blue 
bags falling to the knee and drawn together at the waist, darker blue waistcoat 
and short jacket, the latter generally off, and on the head a straw hat, or, oftener 
perhaps, merely a red or blue kerchief. Of a light blue also are the petticoats of 
the women, and of a darker blue the large kerchief worn on the head, drawn 
under the chin, and falling down over the shoulders, while very low bodices leave 
it only to a white chemise to veil the full, swelling bosom of many a /3a6uKo\-n-o<; Koprj. 
Fine figures they have too, as they glide along, wonderfully erect, carrying on their 
heads deep hampers filled with dozens of pounds of grapes. 

After an eight or nine hours' ride along the hills of the west coast, or across 
the central heights, we reach at length the goal of our pilgrimage. As to ^Eneas, 

" Mox et Leucata: niml>osa cacumina mentis, 
Et formidatus nautis aperitur Apollo." 

But we find only the substructures of the temple, a quantity of broken glass and 
pottery, and, with good fortune, perhaps, a coin bearing a harp, the symbol of the 
God. Looking down, we see a white cliff rising on one side perpendicularly 
some two hundred feet out of the sea, and on the other side sloping precipitously. 
Down this cliff slaves and criminals were cast as expiatory sacrifices. But when 
precipitation from this height served as an ordeal, or appeal to the judgment of God, 
the persons making this appeal got themselves covered with wings and feathers of 
birds, and had boats in waiting to pick them up. The priests of Apollo are said 
to have known how to take this perilous leap without danger. And possibly it 
may have been these customs only that were the basis of the story of the death 
of Sappho. But it was in the midst of the political revolution which ended the 


of the Pharaohs, and of the synchronous intellectual revolution that may be 
indicated hy the names of Tliales, Xenoplianes, and Pythagoras, that 

"Burning Sappho lined and sung." 

And, as Colonel .Mure thinks, quite possibly, so far as we yet know, in her grand 
climacteric, deserted by Pinion, and never having been beautiful save with the 
radiance of intellect, she may have come hither from Sicily, whither she had 
followed him, and plunged from the Apollo-consecrated Leukadian cliff into the 
eddying deep, she and her Lesbian lyre. 

Passing the night at the village of Attani, and returning the next day to 
Amaxikhi, we may, on the following day, set out on the other great Leukadian 
excursion. After a ride of three or four hours, latterly under the overarching boughs 
of a primeval oak-forest, we suddenly emerge on the open lawns and rocks of the 
sunny brow and summit of Skaros. A magnificent scene greets our eyes. A sapphire 
sea, with hilly isles innumerable, and a mountainous mainland extending from 
Peloponnesus to Pindus in Albania. North and south gleam two of the greatest 
sea-battle scenes of the long war between Europe and Asia : on the north the Gulf 
of Actium (31 B.C.), and on the south the Gulf of Lepanto (1571). And in the deep 
blue sea at our feet, between Levkas and the mainland, are the three small islands 
(Meganisi, Kalamo, and Kustos) traditionally identified with those of the trading or 

Argosloli, Cfphaloiiia. 



piratical Tapliians of the Odyssey. Beside these small Homeric islands, and amid 
all the historic scenes I have just indicated, is the island of Maduvi, a favourite 
retreat of the famous modern Greek poet of Levkas, Aristoteles Valaorites. In the far 
distance to the north he might look on Pindus, that towers over the Lake of loannina, 
the scene of that tragedy of the time of Ali Pasha, immortalised in one of his finest 
poems, "The Lady Phrosyne;" and likewise on those mountains of Soiili, the scene 

Windmills, Ithaca. 

of that heroic life and heroic death of Samuel the Kaloyer, or Monk, also celebrated 
by him in a poem worthy of its theme. But now look to the south-west. There 
we behold the Homeric islands of Ithaca, Samos, or Kephallonia, and Zacynthos, or 
Zante, which sent contingents to the Trojan war under the leadership of the supreme 
chief, Odysseus, the islands towards which our cruise must now be steered. 

Ithaca, called by the modern Greeks Thiaki, is in its name another witness to 
a Phoenician, previous to the Hellenic, occupation of these islands ; and another 
witness, therefore, to the probability above indicated, that by the Plueecians 


l!<>mer meant the Phoenicians. For the name appears to have heen originally 
identical with Utica, of which the meaning in Phc'incian was " Colony." On its 
eastern side the island is almost divided in two by the Gulf of Molo, from which 
opens, on the left, a deep horseshoe bay, round the end of which runs the little 
modern capital of Vathy, its name in Greek, Ba6u, "deep," indicating its situation, 
far at the eud of the bay. It is a most picturesque, out-of-the-world looking little town, 
with rugged mountains behind it, and in front an islet covered with houses, which 
shuts out the view of the sea beyond. Of that outer sea, however, there are speaking 
witnesses in the big ships moored close alongside the houses. And the inhabitants of 
the town, some three thousand in number, are, like the inhabitants of the island 
generally, some twelve thousand, almost all owners of at least some roods of land 
and some shares in a ship. But the island has no history save that attaching to 
Odysseus, its ancient chief. Its very name is scarcely mentioned by any historical 
writer ; in 1504 A.D. it appears to have been nearly, if not quite, uninhabited ; and 
its capital, Vathy, is but a century old. All these facts, however, only make it 
more exclusively and sacredly Homeric. And curiously enough, it is as central 
in geographical position as it is in traditional interest. North of it are Corfu, 
Paxo, and Levkas ; and south of it Cephalonia, Zante, and Cerigo ; and, as 
\ve shall see, the descriptions in the Odyssey, not only of the island generally, 
but of special localities, are so extraordinarily in accordance with what we may 
still observe after the lapse of three thousand years, t as to make it highly 
probable that in visiting these localities we visit places which w : ere actually 
trodden by the bard of. the Odyssey, and which probably looked to his eye 
very much as they do to ours, save, perhaps, in the absence now of ancient 
forests. Nor were the old Greeks less struck with Homer's accuracy in describing 
Ithake than is the modern traveller. For it was mainly the recognition of this 
loving accuracy that led to the support of the claim of Ithaca to be the birthplace 
of Homer, and to the occurrence of its name in the famous line enumerating the 
seven cities which pretended to that honour : 

" Smyrna, Khios, Kolojilion, Ithaca, Argos, Athenai, and Athens." 

Now in our tour of the island let us follow the story of the adventures of 
Odysseus after he was landed in Ithaca by the Phasecians. But first let me say 
that Homer's representation that the voyage from Scheria occupied but a single 
night is little, if at all, beyond the bounds of possibility, if Scheria is identified 
with Corfu. For there is an authentic record of a voyage made in a single day 
from Ithaca to Corfu by the British Resident during our Protectorate, in one of the 
coasting boats of the island, which, in build and rig, are still very like the ancient 
galleys. And hence, seeing that "even as on a plain a yoke of four stallions comes 


springing all together beneath the lash, leaping high and speedily accomplishing 
the way, so leaped the stern of that ship, and the dark wave of the sounding sea 
rushed mightily in the wake," quite possibly the ship of the Phaaecians, in which 
Odysseus " slept in peace, forgetful of all that he had suffered," drew nigh at 
early dawn to where " in the land of Ithaca is a certain haven of Phorcys, the 
ancient one of the sea." It is a haven on our left as we sail down the great 
gulf of Molo, a haven called Dexia from being to the right of the opening into 
the deep bay of Vathy. "At the harbour's head is a long-leaved olive tree, and 
hard by is a pleasant cave and shadowy, sacred to the Nymphs that are called 
Naiads. . . . Whither they, as having knowledge of that place, let drive their 
ship ; and the vessel in full course ran ashore, half her keel's length high. . . 
Then they lifted Odysseus from out the hollow ship, all as he was in the sheet of 
linen and the bright rug, and laid him, yet heavy with slumber, on the sand. And 
they took forth the gifts which the lordly Phagecians had given him, . . . and 
set them in a heap by the trunk of the olive tree, a little aside from the road. 
. . . Then themselves departed homeward again." 

When Odysseus awoke " he knew not his native land again, having now been 
long afar, and around him Pallas Athene had shed a mist." But the very objects 
by which the Goddess convinces him that lie is verily again in Ithaca must convince 
us that the land-locked bay of Dexia is the Odyssean " haven of Phorcys." For we, 
too, may see directly opposite, across the gulf of Molo, the hill of Neritou, pointed 
out by the Goddess ; and near the beach not only a cave, but just such a cave as 
that described as " sacred to the nymphs that are called the Naiads." According 
to Homer's description, " two gates there are to the cave, the one set toward the 
north wind, whereby men may go down ; but the portals toward the south pertain 
rather to the Gods, whereby men may not enter." And, says Schliemann, " all this 
is true ; but by the entrance for the Gods he means the artificially cut hole in the 
vault of the grotto, which must have served as a chimney to carry off the smoke of 
the artificial fires." Again, says Homer, there are in the cave "mixing bowls and 
jars of stone, and great looms of stone, wherein the Nymphs weave raiment of 
purple stain, a marvel to behold." And " from the vault of the grotto," says 
Schliemann, "hang innumerable stalactites, which gave Homer the idea of the 
stone urns and amphorae, and the stone frames and looms on which the Nymphs 
wove purple-coloured mantles and veils." And, yet further, it may be noted that 
from this cave there would be just such a rugged walk " up the wooded country 
and through the heights " as was presently taken by Odysseus to the station of his 
faithful swineherd Eumasos, at the extremity of the island nearest Peloponnesos. 

Odysseus found this most faithful of his thralls " sitting at the front entry of the 
house, where his courtyard was builded high in a place with wide prospect ; a great 




court it. waa and a fair, with free range round it. ... And within the courtyard 
he made twelve styes hard by one- another to he heds for the swine, and in each 
stye fifty grovelling swine were penned. . . . And their tale was three hundred 
and threescore. And by them slept four dogs as fierce as wild beasts. . . . And 
of a sudden the baying dogs saw Odysseus, and they ran at him yelping," etc. 

Now, about half a 
dozen miles' walk 
from the grotto of 
the Nymphs there 
actually are a num- 
ber of enclosures like 
stables, averaging 
twenty - five feet in 
length and ten in 
breadth, partly cut 
out of the rock, 
partly formed by 
Archaian walls of 
huge, rudely- wrought 
stones, which, we may 
readily believe with 
Schliemann, " must 
have given to Homer 
the idea for the 
twelve pigstyes built 
by the divine swine- 
herd Eumseos." To 
the east of the 
stables, and just in 
front of them, thou- 
sands of very common but most ancient potsherds indicate the existence of an ancient 
rustic habitation. And Schliemann, having excavated here, "found fragments of very 
interesting, most ancient, unpainted pottery, and also of archaic pottery with rod 
bands." Nor thus only may we identify the swineherd's dwelling where Odysseus, in 
the guise of an old beggar, found his faithful thrall Eumseos, and where both were 
afterwards joined by Telemachos, the sou of Odysseus. For grey-eyed Athene had 
said to Odysseus that he should " find Eumseos sitting by the swine as they are 
feeding near the Rock of Korax [the Eaven Eock] and the Spring of Arethusa, where 
they eat abundance of acorns, and drink the black water, things that make in good 



case the rich flesh of swine;" and to such a great rock Odysseus refers as close 
at hand when lie says to Eumseos that, if his lord returns not, he may set 
his thralls upon him [the seeming old heggar] , and cast him down from the 
mighty rock, that another heggar in his turn may beware of deceiving." Now 
such a rock, called to this day Korax, rises, in a white cliff of a hundred feet, 
at hut a very short distance to the south of the enclosures just mentioned, and 
near the sea ; and below this Raven Rock, in a recess, is a natural and always 
plentiful spring of pure water, traditionally identified with the Homeric Fountain of 

And now let us follow Odysseus, as by "the swineherd he is led to the city 
in the guise of a beggar, a wretched man and an old, leaning on a staff." 
Having passed " the fair flowing spring, with a basin fashioned, whence the people 
of the city drew water," they came to the house of the prince. " And Odysseus 
caught the swineherd by the hand, and spake, saying : ' Eumaeos, verily this is the 
fair house of Odysseus, and right easily might it be known even were it seen 
among many. There is building upon building, and the court of the house is 
cunningly wrought with a wall and battlements, and well fenced are the folding 
doors.' 1 Can this chief of all the Homeric localities of Ithaca be identified? With 
considerable certainty, apparently. For Schliemann's excavations have confirmed Sir 
William Gell's identification (1800) of the Castle of Odysseus with the grand Archaian 
ruins which crown the summit of the steep hill which rises from the narrow isthmus 
between those northern and southern divisions of the island which, stretching out 
from the isthmus, and having the Gulf of Molo between them, give to the hill of 
the isthmus such a likeness to the body of a great bird with outstretched wings 
that it is called Aetos, " The Eagle." From the dwellings of the swineherds in the 
southern division of the island there would have been just such a walk as the 
Homeric narrative leads us to imagine to the " fair house of Odysseus," if here it was 
situated 011 Mount Aetos. The hill, with windmills on its sides, rises to the height 
of six hundred feet above the sea, and had on its summit a level quadrangular 
platform 166 feet long by 127 feet broad, so that there was ample room for the 
"building upon building" mentioned by Homer. To the north and south of the 
circuit wall are towers of Archaian masonry, from each of which a huge wall of 
immense stones runs down ; and two other such walls also run down, the one in 
an easterly, the other in a south-easterly direction. To increase the strength of the 
place, the foot of the hill was cut away so as to form a perpendicular rock twenty 
feet high. Three gates can be recognised in the walls. And between them there 
once stood a city which, according to Dr. Schliemann's calculation, " may have 
contained two thousand houses, either cut out of the rock or built of Cyclopean 
masonry." But the reader must not imagine that this city and citadel, of an 



architecture similar to that of Mykenae and Tiryns, and differing from it only in the 
greater size of the stones used for the houses, was huilt hy Odysseus, or even hy 
Greeks. It belonged to an anterior civilisation, of the arts and monuments of 
\\liich the Greeks succeeded in possessing themselves. 

The three 
remaining Is- 
lands of the Seven need 
not, all put together, detain 
us so long as each of the more 
historic islands, Corfu, Santa 
Maura, or Levkas, and Ithaca. 
For their picturesqueness is 
more of that physical kind of 
which an idea is better con- 
veyed by pictures than by 
words. Even Cephalonia, the 
largest of all the Seven Islands, 
has nothing like such historical 
picturesqueuess as the little island of Ithaca, from which it is separated but by 
a narrow channel. It is mentioned, indeed, by Homer under the name of S;im.' 
or Samos, the name, properly speaking, of its capital city; and he speaks of its 
inhabitants as Kephallenians (Ke^aXXiJiW), and as subjects of Odysseus. Its later 
history was similar to that of the other islands. Reduced by the Romans (ISO n.c.), 
it became attached, on the division of the Roman Empire, to its eastern provinces, 
and remained subject to the Byzantine Empire till the twelfth century, when it 

On the Hill beyond Zante. 

1 1-J 


into the hands of various Latin princes, and finally under the sway of Venice. 
Of the four ancient cities of Cephalonia, of which ruins still exist, those of the 
Homeric Samos are not only the most interesting, but the most extensive. It was 
built near the shore of a bay, from which, near a modern village, a ferryboat now 
crosses the channel to Ithaca. At the north-east extremity of the ancient city are 

the Archaian 
remains of the 
two citadels of 
Samos, sepa- 
rated by a nar- 
row valley, as 
described by 
Livy in his 
account of the 
four months' 
siege conducted 
by the Roman 
Consul in 189 
B.C. Situated, 
as the broad 
and sheltered 

harbour of Samos was, on the strait which 
affords the most direct communication 
between the Adriatic and the Gulf of 
Corinth, its possession was essential for 
the Roman conquest of Greece ; and 

Roman, as well as Hellenic and Archaian remains are therefore found on the site 
of Samos. The modern capital, Argostoli, occupies a far less eligible site than the 
ancient metropolis. It is situated on the western coast, on the shore of a bay of 
the gulf that runs deeply into the island from the south. In this retired position it 
is entirely shut out from any view of the open sea, and stretches about a mile along 
excellent quays, which form a promenade for its eight thousand or so of inhabitants. 
Nearly all the public buildings in Argostoli, and all the splendid roads throughout the 
island, are the work of Sir Charles Napier when British Resident. But among the 
picturesque features of Cephalonia the most striking of all is the classical Mount 
.Enos, rising to the height of 5,380 feet, and now called the Black Mountain, from the 
dark pine forests with which it is partly covered. And among various singular natural 
phenomena, the most remarkable, perhaps, is the siibterranean passage into which the 
sea flows near the entrance of the harbour, about a mile and a half from Argostoli. 


Zante is called by the Greeks, as it was by Homer, Zakynthos. Its history is 
of little interest, but the beauty and fertility of the island, and the picturesque 
situation of its capital on the shore of a semicircular bay, have been celebrated 
in all ages. Theocritus sang of it in his "Idylls"; and in the Italian proverb it 
is called " The Flower of the Levant." The houses of the capital stretch along the 
bay for a mile and a half, but only some three hundred yards inland, save where 
they extend up the slope of the Castle hill ; and here, as at Corfu, there are 
arcades reminding one of Bologna or of Padua. The Castle hill rises three hundred 
and fifty feet above the level of the sea, and, except on its eastern side, which 
has been disfigured by a landslip caused centuries ago by an earthquake, presents a 
mass of groves, houses, and gardens in the most picturesque confusion. The view 
from the ramparts is very extensive. Eastwards, particularly, spreads the long line 
of the coast of Greece, from Missolonghi to Navarino, and in the blue distance are 
the lofty mountains of Acarnania and 2Etolia, of Arcadia and Messenia. Above the 
eastern extremity of the bay rises the jagged summit of Mount Skopos to the 
height of thirteen hundred feet. Of old covered with pines, as its ancient name, 
Mount Elatus, implies, it is now covered with groves of olive-, almond-, and orange- 
trees. Towards the north, Cephalonia rises abruptly from the sea, with its Black 
Mountain girt still with pines. From the western ramparts we look down on the 
richest district of the island, a plain stretching from sea to sea, and varying in 
breadth from one to eight miles. There are a few patches of corn- and pasture- 
land, but the plain is almost entirely covered by a continuous vineyard of the 
dwarf or currant grape, so called from having been earliest ciiltivated near Corinth, 
and hence called liaisin de Corintlie. Zante, also, may boast of singular natural 
phenomena, and particularly of the Pitch Wells mentioned by Herodotos, Pausanias, 
and Pliny. 

Santa Maura, or Levkas, Ithaca, Cephalonia, and Zakynthos, or Zante, all lie 
close together. But from Zaute to Cerigo, the last of the Ionian Islands, which lies 
directly off Cape Malea, the south-eastern promontory of Greece, there is a 
considerably greater distance than from Corfu to Santa Maura. And on our voyage 
from Zante to Cerigo we pass two groups of islets, the first dependent on Zante, 
the second on Cerigo ; the former of mythological, the latter of political interest. For 
the former are the Strophades, where 2Eneas had his adventure with the Harpies. 
And the latter are the islets of Sapieuza and Cervi, the first commanding the harbour 
of Methone, and the second the Bay of Vatika. The name Cerigo is probably a 
softened form of Tzerigo, the name of some Slavonian chieftain who may have seized 
the island when the neighbouring Peloponnesos was overrun by the Slavs. Its 
Homeric name, however, and that which it still bears in modern Greek, is Kythera. 
It was from this island that Aphrodite took her epithet of Kytherean, for here it was 

1 II 



that tin! Cinddess \\;is received when she arose from the ocean. lu other words, here 
it was that Phu'iiicians, coming from the sea, first planted, in these western islands, 
the worship of the Syrian and Assyrian Goddess of love and beauty. But of the site 
of the temple of Aphrodite there appears to he no certain indication, though Pausanius 
has recorded the magnificence of her shrine in Kythera. By no means, however, 
is either the physical aspect of the island, or the moral character of its inhabitants, 
such as we might imagine from the associations called up by the name of Aphrodite. 
Though some parts produce corn, wine, and olive-oil, and the honey of Cerigo is 
particularly esteemed, the island is rocky, mountainous, and in great part uncul- 
tivated, and the inhabitants still deserve the character for industry and frugality 
which they have borne from of old. The chief town, or rather village, Kapsali, 
stands on a narrow ridge terminating in a precipitous rock crowned with a 
mediaeval castle near the southern extremity of the island. And among the curiosities 
of nature in this Kytherean isle are two stalactitic caverns of great beauty, the 
one about two hours' ride from Kapsali, and the other in the sea-cliff at the entrance 
to the beautiful glen of Mylopotamos. Midway between Ceiigo and Crete is the 
little island of Cerigotto, as it is called by the Italians, or Lios, as it is named by 
its inhabitants (some two-score families), but of which the ancient name was ^Egilia. 
And here we may terminate our description of the more picturesque features, natural 
and historical, of the Ionian Islands and Islets. 


The Island of Cerigo. 



TT is so easy to reach Sardinia, and yet the island is still in our day almost 
as much shunned by the people of the continent as it was when the Romans 
found it useful as a species of very mortal Botany Bay. Even the average 
Italian knows nothing at all ahout it except that it has a capital called Cagliari, 
and that some of its wines are not too had to drink. For the rest, he has a 
vague idea that, in spite of all the fine talk about the march of civilisation, there 
are still bandits enough in the island to keep him in a state of anxiety so long 
as his evil genius should compel him to stay in it, and finally that its climate 
has a bad reputation. 

No doubt the fame of its insahibrity is the chief deterrent of visitors to this 
great island, some ten thousand square miles in extent. The ancients gave it a 
bad name in this respect, and it has not yet outlived the reproach. Two thousand 
years ago Cicero warns his brother, whose official duties and debts have taken 
him to Sardinia, to be very careful of his health ; nor must he be negligent 
because it happens to be winter, when fevers are not supposed to walk abroad : 
for, although it is winter, he is in Sardinia. 


in; THE PlCTVfiESQUE Mi-:i>iri-:i,'i;. \\i-.\\. 

Similiir evidence is offered by the Sardo poet Carboni, who, a century ago, 
put the following wail into the mouth of the personification of his native land : 
"0 immortal gods, if mortal things affect you, if you care aught for the concerns 
of men, and can relieve their woes, behold me in my misery, and mark how 
my dolorous and fatal disease makes of my life one never-ending struggle. I 
beseech ye, gods, take away my shame from me ! " 

Maltzan, who travelled three or four months in the island, diligently investigating 
every characteristic feature of it, from its miraghe to its diseases, observes : 
"Although I travelled in the healthiest season of the year during the whole time 
I was in Sardinia, I was not well for a single day. This constrains me to 
declare that there is not the least exaggeration in terming this island one of the 
most unhealthy countries in the world." 

For my part I have no such unpleasant recollections of the island's climate, 
and I was in it during May and June. I travelled somewhat recklessly, and 
during the day and the night indiscriminately ; and I earned, if ever man did, an 
attack of fever or rheumatism, both among the commonplaces of experience in 
Sardinia if rumour is to be believed. Nevertheless, I was troubled by neither. 
In counterpoise, therefore, to the Baron von Maltzan's testimony as to his feelings 
in the island, I may be permitted to say that I never felt better than when 
wandering about the surface of this much-dreaded and, I believe, somewhat 
defamed, province of Italy. Only once was I conscious of any of the symptoms 
which seem to betray a malarious district. This was at 1 Oristano, which has a 
very bad record. Here at sunset there was an indescribably uncomfortable feeling 
in the air, and it seemed to produce just the faint kind of headache which the 
natives term "micrania." That evening I adopted the Sarde precaution, and drank 
more wine to my dinner than usual. The next morning I was in my customary 
state of health. 

This general neglect of Sardinia has not been without its advantages from certain 
points of view. Of course, the tourist accustomed to a Grand Hotel d'Angleterre 
wherever he goes will not like it. Even in Cagliari he would not feel at his ease ; 
and I am sure he would soon lose all patience in the remote villages, where he 
would find it a work of time and not a little tact to get himself bedded for the 
night, though ever so roughly. 

But, on the other hand, it has helped to keep the country in a picturesque 
state, which is neither barbarism nor yet civilisation. Few countries anywhere are 
so rich in peculiarities of costume. I began to have an inkling of it when I had 
been in the island but a couple of hours. The steamer had set me ashore at Capo 
Figari, where a train was waiting in the half-light of the dawn to proceed on its 
long journey through the entire length of the island to the capital. A dark-eyed 


woman, with a tangled mass of black hair blowing before the wind, her shoulders and 
mouth covered with a scarlet shawl, and wearing a white skirt, held a pale-green 
lantern-light for the guidance of the engine-driver. Other Sardes were soon declared 
at the various railway stations : men in sheepskins, in vests and jackets of green or 
lavender-coloured velvet or leather, and having guns in their hands ; and women in 
gorgeous flowered silks, with a profusion of gold jewellery about their necks. The 
effect was quite kaleidoscopic, and it was so charming and novel that for the time 
I was oblivious of the spacious meadows through which we were steaming, and of 
the striking appearance of the mountains beyond, with their dark heads hidden in 

It is riot so long ago that Sardinia was so deeply sunk in silly superstition that 
the villagers of the interior positively rose in arms to oppose the making of the 
great high-road which was to connect Cagliari in the south with Bassari and Terra 
Nova in the north. Cagliari and Sassari had been rivals from the very beginning. 
It was argued that terrible events would happen if by the agency of engineers they 
were brought within easy reach of each other. And the same arguments were used 
by villages and towns of the interior. Hitherto they had got along very well, 
without more than an occasional quarrel with their neighbours. But there was no 
saying what the high-road would bring forth. Besides, it would facilitate the 
movements of the gendarmerie, who had brothers and sons belonging to innumerable 
families on their list of outlaws to be shot or arrested as soon as possible. 

Mark the state of Sardinia less than three-quarters of a century back. " No 
high-roads, but lanes all broken up and muddy, or precipitous and rocky, and in 
many places dangerous to travellers by reason of the bandits who infested them. 
Hardly had the autumn rains begun when all connection was interrupted, not only 
between one province and another, but even between neighbouring villages ; no 
internal trade ; abundance in one town, scarcity in another ; the dwellers in one 
street strangers to the dwellers in another ; and the Sardes themselves ignorant of 
their own island. Hence civic strife, inveterate prejudices, scant sociability, a lack 
of the conveniences of existence, a circumscribed and wretched life." This is an 
admirable summary of Sarde existence to this day in the more mountainous parts 
of the island. But the white roads are annually climbing more and more into 
the midst of the wilder districts of Sardinia ; and now from Gennargentu, the 
highest peak of Barbargia, one can trace them far and wide in a land which the 
Komans and Carthaginians, the Spaniards who preceded the house of Savoy, and 
the administrators of the princes of Piedmont, were all content to leave very 
much to itself. 

The white roads and the schools and the gendarmes, upon whom the traveller 
is constantly chancing in the midst of the cork forests of the mountain slopes or the 

1 IN 


ravines of the Flumendosa, are doing their work slowly though surely. Even 
now a brigand must be baited very temptingly if he is to be drawn into broad 
daylight. And, at the worst estimate, the island is in a vastly more secure stale 
than its neighbour Corsica. 

In the variation of its population one may form some idea of the harassing 
vicissitudes Sardinia has had to suffer. Before the time of the Roman Crcsars two 
millions is the estimate of its inhabitants. This is no excessive number when one 
remembers how rich in grain-growing the island has been from the earliest 
recorded period. Without Sardinia Rome would at times have been near starvation. 
In our own day landed investments here yield from ten to fifteen per cent, per annum. 

But from the beginning of the Christian era the number of Sardinia's people 
constantly decreased, until in 1G98 it was only 201,674. It was due to the ceaseless 
warfare' in which the inhabitants were obliged to have a part. Pisa and Genoa 
fought for the island, each with the aid of one or other of the four judges or 

The Roman Amphitheatre, Cagliari. 

princes who, in the middle ages, had divided the island between them. The 
Saracens worried its shores year after year. Eventually the King of Aragon 
dispossessed Pisa, and occupied most of the island. But it was not until after 
another century of strife that, in 1421, Sardinia was finally wrested wholly to the 
Spanish Crown. 

In 172! i the population had increased to 309,994. This increase continued in 
177-5 to 436,374, and so on, until in 1870 the number reached 636,660, and in 













tfuraghe at Santa Rarliara, Maconicr. 

1880, 082,002. Perhaps in the course of three or four hundred years the island 
will again become as populous as it was ere the Roman pro-consuls made it their 
business to kill and sell Sardes by the tens of thousands annually. 

For an island -of this magnitude, Cagliari, with about forty thousand inhabitants, 
cannot be called a very imposing capital. But it is a famous and ancient place, 
nevertheless. Philologists tell us that its name is derived from the Phoenician 
" Keret al," which signifies " set on high." The town is, in fact, built on a tufa 
hill some four hundred feet above the sea, which washes its base ; and landwards it 
is surrounded by the rich green plain of the Campidano and the "stagni" or 
marshes, which are one of the most picturesque, though not wholly welcome, details 
in the view from the city's battlements. 

It is only necessary to walk a few yards along the high-road west of the 
city to see abundant traces of the first, or at least the early, inhabitants of 
Cagliari. We are in the suburb of S. Avendracio, with the bright blue water on one 
side of the road, and the purple mountains of the south-western corner of Sardinia 
beyond. There are low, commonplace white houses by the roadside, of a single storey. 
But behind the houses, where, to the right, they seem buttressed against the long 
promontory of tufa which springs from the mass upon which the city itself is built, 
there are scores of empty tombs. Here for a time lay the Carthaginians who died 
in Karales before Rome got hold of Sardinia. There is not the least doubt about 
it. The nature of the sepulchral chambers betrays their presence, even if coins and 
jewel-work of Carthage had not been unearthed as conclusive testimony. 


These Carthaginian tombs arc excavated in the tufa laterally, so that they face 
(lie road and the sea beyond. But they are not all. If one climbs to the white, 
glaring plain of which these honeycombed little cliffs are the termination one finds 
tombs of another kind. The Carthaginians buried in their own way, and the 
Komans in theirs ; and the sunken shafts of the lloman graves now and then 
actually pierced the vaulting of the sepulchres of their predecessors. 

Though comparatively so small, Cagliari is not a contemptible place from any 
aspect. The higher one climbs in it the narrower the streets become. In the 
neighbourhood of the cathedral, at the summit, they are not streets but alleys, dark 
and cool even on a summer day at noon. It is positively dazzling to break from 
this sombre maze of streetlets upon the magnificent promenade of Buon Cammino, 
which skirts the side of the rock for half a mile, with seats and shade under the 
pepper-trees, and a view that one could look upon for a day and not weary of. 
There is also a public garden, with palm-trees, statuary, and fountains, whence the 
mountains of Barbargia, to the north, do not appear half as distant as they are. 

In past time Cagliari has received special Papal benediction for its religious 
zeal and orthodoxy. Whether this was merited or not, it has an astonishing 
number of little churches, and the Sarde calendar is full of saints and martyrs 
whose blood has moistened this their native soil. These churches cannot be 
termed very interesting. Most of them are now in a condition of decay, with rotten 
woodwork, defaced stonework, and unbeautiful paintings over their altars. Externally 
this is not apparent. Inside it is otherwise. Even the gaudy decking of paper 
roses, which indicates one or other of the many local festa-days, cannot veil the 
decrepitude of the building. 

Cagliari is seen at its liveliest during one of the chief religious festivals of 
the year. The peasants from the Campidano then troop into the city in all their 
traditional and inherited finery, and there is a melodious tinkling of jewellery in 
the Corso Vittorio Emanuele and the other principal thoroughfares. When the 
throng and babble is at its worst, the blue or crimson flutter of a banner from a 
side street may betoken the coming of one of those religious processions which are 
nowhere more elaborate than in Sardinia. Acolytes in scarlet and white, little girls 
in long veils, old men with badges and candles, and the priests themselves in a 
pomp of vestments, go by to the blare of trumpets. Perhaps there is a shedding of 
rose or geranium petals upon the high-road for them to tread upon, or green twigs 
plucked by children for the purpose. Be that as it may, it is always impressive to 
mark how the swarthy, eagle-eyed men from the country fall instantly . upon their 
knees with a mutter of prayer at these manifestations of the dignity and power of 
Holy Church. The youth of Cagliari's university, or those who have matriculated in 
the freer air of Kome, are by no means so ready to bow the knee. They are more 


apt to stand with a sneer upon their hairless lips, and to shrug their shoulders at 
each other in derision of the superstitious degradation of those poor mountebanks of 
peasants. But the Sardes of the Campidauo are not to be influenced by sneers and 
mocks. They may be ignorant, credi;lous fellows, but at any rate they are true to 
what pass for their convictions. 

Among its relics of antiquity the amphitheatre of Cagliari is probably the most 
interesting, as it is certainly the largest. The Canon Spano, who has done so much for 
Sarde archaeology, was the chief agent of its clearance from the immense amount of 
rubbish which had been cast into it during ten or eleven centuries. As a rubbish-pit 
it no doubt served excellently, from the end of the eighth century onwards. The last 
record of its use dates from the year 777, when bull-fights were held here to celebrate 
the temporary expulsion of the Saracens from the island. Thenceforward the citizens 
had little peace from their enemies, and the original purpose of the amphitheatre 
was probably unheeded. 

Unlike most theatres, this of Cagliari is an excavation, not a superstructure. 
It reminds one of the Odeon of Herod Atticus in the side of the Acropolis at Athens. 
The rude outline of it was formed by a watercourse which existed here. The tufa 
yielded to the autumnal rains, even as it still does ; and when the hint had taken 
root in the minds of the Cagliaritan architects, it was easy to extend the area of 
dilapidation. It is not a very large excavation, though it is estimated that it could 
seat twenty thousand spectators. What it lacks in breadth, however, it gains in 
height, its elevation being about a hundred feet. Perhaps the most interesting 
part of it is the series of corridors and chambers which burrow under the lower 
tier of seats. These were concerned with the wild beasts brought here to die. The 
iron rings to which they were tethered may still be seen welded into the matrix. 

The Cagliari amphitheatre is not on show at half a franc or a franc a head. 
It is left very much indeed to itself. Under this hot sky it is, moreover, a trifle 
arduous to explore the excavation thoroughly. The seats are high, and there are 
fissures in the masonry which it would never do to slip into. Here and there a 
clump of cactus or prickly pear has perched itself about the theatre. A little 
boy may perhaps be seen amusing himself by leaping from seat to seat, and 
shouting to snare the echo. Else, you and the amphitheatre and the blue sky 
which domes it are likely to be very much alone. Bees and butterflies and lizards 
are, of course, of no account. Of these, however, there will probably be no lack. 

I have mentioned the Sarde's devotion to the church. One notices this in 
the towns ; but it is brought home to one with the greatest force when wandering 
among the mountains or over the spacious plains which stretch between the 
different mountain groups, and are famous as the breeding-grounds of the Sarde 
horses so much in request in Marseilles. Here and there, far from the haunts 


of ini'ii, appears a little white church, with its windows boarded and its door 
securely locked. If you ask what it means, you are told that it is dedicated to 
this or that saint, whose name you may now hear for the first time, and that 
on such and such a day in the year there is a festa in honour of the saint. On 
this festa-day and the two or three following days the church is unlocked, 
and wonderful is the concourse of people from far and wide to eat and drink 
wid pray and dance in honour of this particular saint. 

It is the same all over Sardinia. Cagliari in the south has its Saint Efisio, 
who provokes every May such scenes of festivity and rejoicing as appear astonishing 
to us of the north. In the extreme north-west S. Gavino is in the most 
repute. While walking along the coast one day from Porto Torres I came 
unexpectedly upon the traces of the recent festa of S. Gavino. There were certain 
caves iu the rock, and a chapel that was half a burrow 7 and half the result of 
the work of masons. With some difficulty I made my way into a series of the rock 
chambers, which were green with damp. The apartments, the court-yard by the 
church porch, and the neighbouring space for many yards, were all rendered repulsive 
by the prodigious litter of bones, peascods, grape skins, and rotting crusts which the 
recent revellers had discarded after the festa-day. Great was the concourse of 
bloated beetles and ants and slugs among this decaying refuse, which was so 
abundant that one could fancy the festa-day would come round again ere they had 

effectually done their scavengering. 


After a little experience of Sardinia I was quick to know when a festa was 
in the air. There would then be an unusual number of people abroad, in their best 
clothes, with or without portly haversacks slung over their mules or horses, and the 
greetings they gave a passer-by would have an agreeable, rollicking tone. A good 
deal of drinking takes place thus under the fegis of Mother Church. I suppose, too, that 
most of the marriages in Sardinia get their initial impulse at these merry-makings. 

Of course, under such "conditions, the church in Sardinia is likely to be 
prosperous. That, in fact, it is. The free-thinking editors of newspapers in such 
towns as Cagliari and Sassari may put their notions in print with as much force 
as large type and italics can add to them : it does not make the least difference 
to the country Sarde. Even if he can read at all, he will not be influenced much 
by editorial vapouring. He is much too conservative an individual to allow himself to 
be argued out of the beliefs that are as familiar and fond to him as his environment. 

In travelling from the north of Sardinia towards the south one cannot fail 
to notice the almost abrupt change in the vegetation which seems to begin in 
the neighbourhood of Oristano. North of Macomer, which stands nearly two 
thousand feet above the sea, the scenery is European. The rich meadows, teeming 
with flowers, and pervaded by flowing brooks in which cows may be seen 



knee-deep, and the fine oak woods populous with asphodels, are not at all suggestive 
of a semi-tropical climate. Add to the asphodels thickets of wild cistus massed 
with bloom, and you may have some idea of the surface appearance of the Barde 
highway in the north. 

But as we descend in long curves from Macomer, we, as it were, arrive in 
Africa. I have seen few such gigantic hedges of prickly pear as in the 
vicinity of Oristano. It is a land 
of marvellous fertility. Every yard 
seems determined to produce the 
very utmost possible. Fig trees, 
vines, and barley all draw their 
support from the same soil ; and 
the fervid blue sky overhead indi- 
cates whence the chief source of 
all this exuberance proceeds. 

It is a curious country, this 
round about Oristano and which we 
approach so circuitously from Ma- 
comer. Before we come to its dead 
level we speed for a while along the 
edge of a plateau, rising inland, 
whence we look west to the sea 
across an old alluvial bed of great 
extent, broken only by sundry yellow- 
brown blotches, which represent the 
numerous villages of the district. In 
one place the nakedness is relieved 
by a long, dark smudge under the 
slope of the shore hills. This is Mills, the estate of the Marchese di Boyl, a vast 
orange grove, miles in length, and reputed to yield sixty million oranges annually. 
Throughout Sardinia a Mills orange has as precious a reputation as in England a 
Eibstone pippin. I have bought ten of them for a penny in Oristano, and felt assured 
by his face that the vendor was not giving me full market value for my money. 

The Sardes have a proverb, "Who goes to Oristauo stays in Oristano." He 
dies, in fact, from a fever. Certainly no one can affirm that this low-lying place 
is healthy. From the railway one sees nothing of it but a mosaic of lichened 
roofs, with the dome and campanile of the Cathedral rising above them, and the 
near hedges of prickly pear twelve and fifteen feet high. It is a very hot town, 
a curious mixture of fine new buildings and old mud hovels with thatched roofs. 


Entrance to the Niiraghe of Santa Barbara. 


But it is half-girdled by '' stagni," and the Tirso, the largest river in the island, 
curries its muddy stream past it towards the sea. Nowhere in Sardinia did I see 
the classic " mastruca " more in vogue than here. The natives use it partly as 
a safeguard ag;i ii^t the chills which usher in a fever. To a stranger it is odd 
to see those bron/ed sous of the soil huddled in sheepskin jackets, the wool 
outermost, under the scorching heat of a July sun. In truth, however, the Sarde 
would much prefer dispensing with the "mastruca" in winter than in summer. 
Sunrise and sundown are the times when the timorous take every precaution lest 
they he caught unawares. Unless they are obliged to be out, they then keep to 
the house. They are, further, scrupulous in the matter of diet. The germ 
(though, of course, they know nothing of " bacilli ") may be in a green fig, or a 
tisli from such and such a " stagno." Nor will they uncover the head in a cafe or 
other place of public resort, nor inhale the air of a bad district if they can possibly 
be hurried through it while they hold the breath. " Stay in and drink plenty of 
wine "is a current prescription for the man who feels he is on the verge of 
malaria ; and it does not seem to be wholly contemptible counsel. 

Macomer is a great contrast to Oristano. Instead of being embosomed in 
palm-trees and vegetation, it is built on a slope of the Marghine mountains, whose 
naked rock summits stretch bleakly towards the interior. As a town it is not 
at all striking. The large house near the railway station was the residence, 
until his death the other day, of Mr. Pierce, the English engineer who has done so 
much for Sardinia in labouring so strenuously on behalf of the island's railway 
system. In Macomer, at any rate, his work is amply recognised. The English 
stranger is welcomed here : it is enough that he is a countryman of Mr. Pierce, 
whom all Macomer seems to have loved and respected. 

One would suppose that this elevated place could hardly fail to be healthy; 
and yet it is esteemed uncommonly dangerous. In spite of its perils, however, 
which I fancy are not so grave as they are reputed to be, the traveller ought to 
tarry a while in Macomer, if only for the nuraghe which abound in the neighbourhood. 
The artist has chosen the best-preserved of them as a subject for illustration, and 
it may, in default of others, serve as an example of the many hundreds of 
somewhat similar towers which exist in all parts of the island. Scores of nuraghe 
elsewhere are in the last stages of ruin, at least you would imagine so. Perhaps 
a single section alone of a wall remains, as in the case of that of Su Paladinu, by 
And yet there is no knowing if it will not endure for a millennium longer, 
even as, for all we know, it may already have lasted in its present ruined state for 
a millennium or more. According to the evidence of one of the parchments of 
Arborea (a packet of mediaeval writings found in Oristano, which some think were 
forgeries, but in which Sarde antiquaries put much faith), the word " nuraghe " 

SA1WINIA. 155 

comes from Norax, the Phoenician founder of Nora, or Ptila as it is now called. 
They are further described as being temples of the sun, and places of burial for the 
early shepherds and priests. This is so very vague and infantine an elucidation of 
the mystery of the nuraghe that it may be dismissed at once. Apart from other 
objections, if the nuraghe owed their origin to Norax the Phoenician, whence did 
Norax get the model for these Sarde towers ? If from Phoenicia or Carthage, why 
do we not find the prototypes of the nuraghe in those districts ? If the nuraghe of 
Sardinia have lasted for so many thousand years, would not the nuraghe of Africa 
or Phoenicia have lasted equally ? 

For very many centuries the nuraghe have served as a quarry for the more 
modern dwellers in Sardinia. The parchment of Arborea above mentioned says they 
were all ransacked during the reign of the Judge Gialetus, about 700 A.D. This, no 
doubt, was but one of the series of ransackings they have had to suffer for 
generations. Even in our own time they have not been left to themselves. La 
Marmora and others have delved in them in quest of bones and bronzes, to give some 
clue to their origin ; but of bones to prove they were sepulchres practically none 
have been found. The one skeleton discovered in the nuraghe of Iselle, near 
Budduso, was, from the nature of the metal trifles which lay with it, much subsequent 
to the building of the nuraghe itself. 

In fact, villages are built almost wholly of the big rectangular stones lifted from 
the nuraghe. Yet the ruins remain, twenty, thirty, forty feet and more in height, 
and it is one of the many other mysteries of the kind how the great uncemented 
stones which form the lower tiers of the towers were first brought and set where 
they still stand. It is well, however, that they are of sufficient bulk to defy 
the acquisitive inclinations of the latter-day Sardes. 

It were bold in a paper of this kind to attempt to discuss fully the theories 
about the genesis of the nuraghe. Some three thousand are said to exist. A 
multitude of pamphlets and chapters have been written about them, each convincing 
from the standpoint of its author, and it is to be hoped they will survive to puzzle 
posterity to the tenth and twentieth generation. They differ as much in size and 
architectural detail as in their situations. Nowadays they are all truncated, with a 
variety of grasses growing upon what may without disrespect be termed the roof. 
This has led some people to class them with the temples of the old Central American 
races, and to assume that they were so many altars, upon the flat summits of which 
the human sacrifices were consummated before the eyes of the bystanders. 

Internally, however, the nuraghe have distinctive marks. Some are of two 
storeys, the ovoidal dome to the inner chambers being of the same uncemented 
stones which compose the body of the building. From others, again, having 
attained the summit, one looks down to the earth floor as at the bottom of a well. 




Only the shells remain. But many, if not most, of both kinds are provided with a 
rude narrow staircase within the walls themselves, which leads from the hase to the 
l,,p of the nuraghe. This of Santa Barbara by Macomer is a line example of a 
fully equipped nuraghe. And there are others with subterranean apartments, though 
these arc so broken into each other by investigations that it is hard to make out 

their scheme and connection. 
As for the spoil yielded 
in modern days by the nu- 
raghe, it consists exclusively 
of a number of ill-shapeii 
bronze images, which may 
now be seen in the Cagliari 
Museum. They are the Sarde 
idols, so-called. Some of 
them are nightmarish con- 
ceptions, though hardly one 
has failed of an interpreta- 
tion, often, be it said, satis- 
factory to no one except the 
interpreter. The majority re- 
present human forms. But 


in many cases the horns at- 
tached to the head, three or 
four legs instead of the com- 
mon pair, and sundry other 
excrescences, leave it dubious 
if their prototypes dwelt on 
our planet. The horns, again, 
are branched like a stag's antlers, or a single pair like those of a cow. Certain of 
the heads are bovine ; others resemble an ape, with inchoate tendencies towards the 
human outline. Yet are not the idols all single figures. We find serpents, dogs, 
and men moulded into one group; three or four rudely-shaped men and women 
welded together in another. 

These little images (generally and plausibly supposed to be Phoenician symbols 
<>f Hie gods worshipped by the Canaanites of Tyre and Sidon) appear to have been the 
sole inhabitants of the nuraghe. Were they the Lares and Penates of the establishment, 
guardians of the dead (since, with their attendant treasure of gold necklets, beads, 
etc., removed), or were the nuraghe temples for their enshrinement ? Who shall 
At any rate, now they are displaced. A few may be found as ornaments 

lirotla of the I 'ipfr, by Cagliari. 


iu the houses of the country priests and landowners, hut the majority are in the 
museums. One may fancy how the early evangelists in Sardinia regarded these 
ugly heathenish things when they found them in the possession of the people they 
had come to convert. In the sixth century Sardinia was still largely pagan, and 
Gregory the Great wrote special letters to the bishops in the island exhorting to 
the destruction of these very idols. Multitudes of them were then hacked to 
pieces, or fused into church bells, or buried with solemn maledictions beneath the 
Christian buildings which were to supplant them. Such as they are, however, the 
Sarde idols are as unique in their way as the nuraghe in theirs. 

The commonplace idea that the nuraghe were the castles of the prehistoric 
Sardes may, after all, it seems, be the real solution of the mystery of these towers. 
Of course, they need not have been used except in times of danger. The conical 
huts still made by the rustic Sardes were their ordinary dwellings. But as citadels 
of refuge nothing could be less assailable than the nuraghe, with their portals so 
narrow that they had, in most cases, to be entered upon the hands and knees. 
" Thus enclosed in his nuraghe, surrounded by his armed vassals, amply supplied 
with provisions, a Sarde chief could defy all attacks, and wait in security until 
his assailant should be summoned away by his own domestic needs." These are 
the words of the Baron von Maltzan, who has further computed that, in all, the 
nuraghe of Santa Barbara alone could shelter about two hundred and fifty persons. 

If I were asked what impressed me most during my tour in the island, I 
should reply the nuraghe, and a " matanza," or slaughter of tunny fish, at which I 
was privileged to be present. The tunny fishery is, in truth, one of the most 
important of the few industries of Sardinia. "When Spain ruled in the island it 
was worth much more than it is at present. Since then it has been grievously 
neglected, though in the last few decades its value has begun again to 
be recognised. 

Of the various "toiinare," or villages devoted to the tunny fishery, the chief 
are Isola Piana in the south, off the islet of S. Pietro, and Porto Torres in the 
north. The former is, or at any rate was recently, let at a rental of 11,700 
per annum, and an average year's receipts amounted to some twelve thousand 
fish, representing a thousand tons' weight, at 40 the ton. As the season lasts 
only for a few weeks in the spring of the year, it will be apparent that the 
lessees of the fishery of Isola Piana do well by their bargain. 

I was fortunate enough to be in Carloforte, the capital of S. Pietro, when 
the fishery was in progress ; and also, a week later, in Porto Torres, with the 
like opportunity at hand. As luck would have it, however, I missed a "matanza" 
at Isola Piana, though I watched the boatloads of merrymakers who set out from 
the little harbour of the town for the distant scene of capture and slaughter, 


and suhs,.qui-ntly saw the smoke of the " tonnani " chiiiiueys puffing in eloquent 
d.-mon-tration that there liad been a fine catch, and that the employes of the 
Genoese contractors who rent the " tonnara " were boiling the fish as fast as possible 
for the European market. 

From first to last the taking and potting of the tunny is an affair of much 
tact and patience. The net or snare into which the wandering herds of lish are 
enticed has to he of immense size, dexterous construction, and irreproachable 
stivngth. It is of two parts: the one an outer framework of palmetto or esparto 
grass, made fast by cables and a tether of huge stones; and the other an inner drag 
net, by means of which the fish are eventually brought near to the surface. This 
is the slaughterers' moment; and a wild enough scene it is, when the great fish are 
thus at the mercy of the men who have been nominated to stand on two of the 
sides of the great boats which pen the fish, waiting the word of command from 
the " rais " to drive their iron hooks into the glittering bodies of their victims. 

It is an affair of patience, because sometimes the fish hold aloof unaccountably. 
The look-out man, whose business it is to be constantly moving as quietly as possible 
over the area of the " madraga," as the net is called, to keep himself informed of the 
number of tunny already in the snare, has no very easy time of it. A storm, of 
course, sends him back to the " tonnara," since the " matanza " itself is impossible 
in a very disturbed sea. Ordinarily, however, he must be vigilant and persistent in 
peering through the clear water. And only when enough fish are in the snare to 
repay the labour of the " matauza " is it his duty to warn the manager, who 
gives the word for the last act in the lives of the hundreds of trapped tunny. 

Even then hours must elapse before the fish can be got to the surface in fit 
trim for the slaughter. They must all be in the final or death chamber of the 
snare, and until they are there different tactics are used to coax them thither. When 
the "rais" (from the Arabic "ras," the head), or leader, is satisfied that the right 
moment has come, the barges, which are a necessary feature of the fishery, form a 
square over the "madraga," and by slow degrees the net is hauled in until the 
tunny are forced pell-mell near the surface of the water. It is a tedious piece of 
work, and though a hundred men may be engaged at it, sometimes a couple of 
hours go by ere the final dispositions for the slaughter take place. Five or six 
hundred fish, weighing a couple of hundredweight each, make a very respectable 
burden to upheave. 

At last the supreme moment arrives. There are the tunny, lashing each other 
with their powerful tails as they try to move freely in their restricted quarters. The 
water within the square is all in a boil. The spray is shot right and left so 
vigorously that the spectators are soon drenched t and it rises high in the air like 
the spouting from a hundred fountains. 


The slaughterers have dressed themselves in cottons from head to foot. Well 
they may, for in a few moments they are red all over with the blood of the dead 
and dying fish. These they stab with their " crocchi," or hooked poles, and draw 
from the water into the roomy holds of the barges, which cut off all chance of 
escape for the fish. It is not child's play, though of actual danger there is none, 
save that of a blow from the tail of the fish as it is being urged into the boat. And 
so the work proceeds until the gory sea within the enclosure is divested of its 
tenants. Then the men leap into the water upon the other side, and swim about 
until they and their cottons are a more presentable colour ; after which the 
burdensome catch is towed landwards by the " tonnara " steam-tug, and the tunny 
are transported very promptly into the " marfaragiu," or factory, where the dissection, 
cooking, and tinning processes are carried through without waste of a minute. 

Decidedly, as an experience, a " matanza " of tunny is something to see. For 
myself, however, I do not think I could make it an occasion of picnics and festivity 
as do the country Sardes who are able to hire boats to be " in at the death." It 
is too sanguinary a spectacle, mere butchery, and the fumes of blood poison the air, 
so that none but hardened stomachs can endure it without an attack of nausea. 

If there were space at command, I should like to have written something about 
the islands off the Sarde coast. About such eccentric rocks as "Woman's Thigh 
Headland," and " Stomach-ache Island," on the west side, little need be said, 
because they are so small. Of the others, Asmara, to the north-west, about thirty-five 
miles in circumference, is the largest. It is a bleak, treeless cape of red granite, very 
much out of the world. Not so long ago pen and ink did not exist in it, and a sick 
man had to be row.ed fifteen miles thence in a boat to receive extreme unction from 
a priest. It is not so bad now. Earlier in the century there was a Duke of 
Asmara ; but the title was so doubtful an honour, being much the same as 
Duke of Donkeys, and the revenue so small (about '2 per annum), that the Duke 
petitioned successfully to be Duke of Vallombrosa instead. 

In the south-west are two other islands S. Pietro, already mentioned for its 
" tonnara," and 8. Antioco. The former is peopled by inhabitants of Genoese 
extraction, who differ from the Sardes alike in features, energy, habits, and dress. 
Elsewhere in Sardinia life is conducted with Oriental calmness, but in Carloforte of 
S. Pietro there is an invigorating amount of stir. The city, too, is attractive, 
with its girdle of crenulated walls, built in the last century as a protection against 
the Algerines a?id other pirates, with its tall pink and ochre houses, and its bright 
outlook across the blue strait at the mountains of Iglesias. 

S. Antioco is more lethargic than S. Pietro. It is not, like Carloforte, a port 
enlivened by the transhipment of minerals to the continent, and in the tunny season 
by all the cheery bustle incidental to the catching, pickling, and exportation of the 



tunny; hut. it has charms of its own. It is an old place, and its stones whisper 
of Carthage, I'-gypt, illl( l Home, of the Saracens \vlio later, for two or three 
centuries, camped amid its ruined temples, and of its resuscitation as a modern, 
unpretending townlet. Its people are a. simple, kindly community, much intermarried, 
and ready to take oath that S. Antioco is the healthiest spot in the world. I was 
here put through some odd cross-examination about my native land. The villagers 
were astounded to learn that England was governed by a woman ; but, hearing 
that the Queen had a son, they forthwith assumed that he was the real ruler, his 
mother acting but as a nominal sort of regent. 

The view from S. Antioco across its narrow sound of water is botli like and 
unlike that from Carloforte. It looks upon the same mountains, but between them 
and the coast is a broad and long flat, pestilential in the dog-days, and to the eye 
only an immense cornfield of very thin corn, with here and there a white house or 
two distributed about it. Anciently this was the site of the important city of Suit-is, 
one of the most populous during the Roman occupation of Sardinia. It is supposed 
that the four thousand Egyptians and Jews of whom Tacitus writes were transported 
hither, to live or die as they might. But the city is now quite expunged from the 
face of the earth, saving the fragments in S. Antioco. Two or three granite 
columns, half sunk in the dark mud of the marshes by the old Roman road, do but 
just keep it in memory. 


Bay of Algiers, front Mustaplu. 


' ALGIERS," says the Arab poet, with genuine Oriental love of precious stones in 
literature, " is a pearl set in emeralds." And even in these degenerate days of 
Frank supremacy in Islam, the old Moorish town still gleams white in the sun 
against a deep background of green hillside, a true pearl among emeralds. For it is 
a great mistake to imagine North Africa, as untravelled folk suppose, a dry and desert 
country of arid rocky mountains. The whole strip of laughing coast which has the 
Atlas for its backbone may rank, on the contrary, as about the dampest, greenest, 
and most luxuriant region of the Mediterranean system. The home of the Barbary 
corsairs is a land of high mountains, deep glens, great gorges ; a land of vast pine 
forests and thick, verdant undergrowth. A thousand rills tumble headlong down its 
rich ravines ; a thousand rivers flow fast through its fertile valleys. For wild flowers 
Algeria is probably unequalled in the whole world ; its general aspect in many ways 
recalls on a smaller scale the less snow- clad parts of eastern Switzerland. 

When you approach the old pirate-nest from the sea, the first glimpse of the 
African coast that greets your expectant eye is a long, serrated chain of great 
sun-smitten mountains away inland and southward. As the steamer nears the land, 
you begin, after a while, to distinguish the snowy ridge of the glorious Djurjura, 
which is the Bernese Oberland of Algeria, a huge block of rearing peaks, their 
summits thick-covered by the virgin snow that feeds in spring a score of leaping 
torrents. By-and-by, with still nearer approach, a wide bay discloses itself, and a 



little range of green liills in the foreground detaches itself by degrees from the 
darker mass of the Atlas looming large in the distance behind. This little range 
is the Sahrl, an outlier just separated from the main chain in the rear by the once 
marshy plain of the Metidja, now converted by drainage and scientific agriculture 
into the most fertile lowland region of all North Africa. 

Presently, on the seaward slopes of the Sahel, a white town bursts upon the 
eye, a white town so very white, so close, so thick-set, that at first sight you 
would think it carved entire, in tier after tier, from a solid block of marble. No 
street or lane or house or public building of any sort stands visible from the rest at 
a little distance; just a group of white steps, you would say, cut out by giant 
hands from the solid hillside. The city of the Deys looks almost like a chalk-pit 
on the slope of an English down ; only a chalk-pit in relief, built out, not 
hewn inwards. 

As you enter the harbour the strange picture resolves itself bit by bit with 
charming effect into its component elements. White houses rise up steep, one 
above the other, in endless tiers and rows, upon a very abrupt acclivity. Most of 
them are Moorish in style, square, flat-roofed boxes ; all are whitewashed without, 
and smiling like pretty girls that show their pearly teeth in the full southern 
sunshine. From without they have the aspect of a single solid block of stone ; you 
would fancy it was impossible to insert a pin's head between them. From within, 
to him that enters, sundry narrow and tortuous alleys discoyer themselves here and 
there on close inspection ; but they are too involved to produce much effect as of 
streets or rows on the general coup tVceil from the water. 

Land at the quay, and you find at once Algiers consists of two distinct 
towns : one ancient, one modern ; one Oriental, one Western. Now and again 
these intersect, but for the most part they keep themselves severely separate. 

The lower town has been completely transformed within half a century by its 
French masters. What it has gained in civilisation it has lost in picturesqueness. 
A spacious port has been constructed, with massive mole and huge arcaded 
breakwater, at one end of which the old octagonal lighthouse of the Barbary 
corsairs gives a solitary token of the antiquity of the original harbour. Inside, vast 
archways support a magnificent line of very modern quays, bordered by warehouses 
on a scale that would do honour to Marseilles or to Liverpool. Broad streets run 
through the length and breadth of this transformed Algiers, streets of stately 
shops where ladies can buy all the fripperies and fineries of Parisian dressmakers. 
Yet even here the traveller finds himself already in many ways en plein Orient. 
The general look of the new town itself is far more Eastern than that of 
modernised Alexandria since the days of the bombardment. Arabs, Moors, and 
Kabyles crowd the streets and market-places; muffled women in loose white robes, 


covered up to the eyes, flit noiselessly with slippered feet over the new-flagged 
pavement; turbaued Jews, who might have stepped straight out of the "Arabian 
Nights," chaffer for centimes at the shop-doors with hooded mountain Berbers. 
All is strange and incongruous; all is Paris and Bagdad shaking hands as if on the 
Devonshire hillsides. 

Nor are even Oriental buildings of great architectural pretensions wanting to 
this newer French city. The conquerors, in reconstructing Algiers on the Parisian 
model, have at least forborne to Haussmannise in every instance the old mosques 
and palaces. The principal square, a broad place lined with palm-trees, is enlivened 
and made picturesque by the round white dome and striking minarets of the Mosquee 
de la Pecherie. Hard by stands the Cathedral, a religious building of Mussulman 
origin, half Christianised externally by a tower at each end, but enclosing within 
doors its old Mohammedan minibar and many curious remains of qiiaint Moorish 
decoration. The Archbishopric at its side is a Moorish palace of severe beauty and 
grandeiir ; the museum of Graeco-Boman antiques is oddly installed in the exquisite 
home raised for himself by Mustapha Pasha. The Great Mosque, in the Hue 
Bab-el-Oued, remains to us unspoiled as the finest architectural monument of the 
early Mohammedan world. That glorious pile was built by the very first Arab 
conquerors of North Africa, the companions of the Prophet, and its exquisite 
horse-shoe arches of pure white marble are unsurpassed in the Moslem world for 
their quaintness, their oddity, and their originality. 

The interior of this mosque is, to my mind, far more impressive than anything to 
be seen even in Cairo itself, so vast it is, so imposing, so grand, so gloomy. The 
entire body of the building is occupied throughout by successive arcades, supported 
in long rows by plain, square pillars. Decoration there is none ; the mosque depends 
for effect entirely on its architectural features and its noble proportions. But the 
long perspective of these endless aisles, opening out to right and left perpetually as 
you proceed, strikes the imagination of the beholder with a solemn sense of vastness 
and mystery. As you pick your way, shoeless, among the loose mats on the 
floor, through those empty long corridors, between those buttress-like pillars, the 
soul shrinks within you, awe-struck. The very absence of images or shrines, the 
simplicity and severity, gives one the true Semitic religious thrill. No gauds or 
gewgaws here. You feel at once you are in the unseen presence of the Infinite 
and the Incomprehensible. 

The very first time I went into the Great Mosque happened, by good luck, to 
Le the day of a Mohammedan religious festival. Hows and rows of Arabs in white 
robes filled up the interspaces of the columns, and rose and fell with one accord 
at certain points of the service. From the dim depths by the niche that looks 
towards Mecca a voice of some unseen ministrant droned slowly forth loud Arabic 



prayers or long verses from the Koran. At some 
invisible signal, now and again, the vast throng of 
worshippers, all ranged >in straight lines at even 
distances between the endless pillars, prostrated 
themselves automatically on their faces before 

Allah, and wailed aloud as if in conscious confession of their own utter airworthiness. 
The effect was extraordinary, electrical, contagious. No religious service I have ever 
seen elsewhere seemed to me to possess such a profundity of earnest humiliation, as 
of man before the actual presence of his Maker. It appeared to one like a chapter 
of Nehemiah come true again in our epoch. We few intrusive Westerns, standing 
awe-struck by the door, slunk away, all abashed, from this scene of deep abasement. 
\\V had no right to thrust ourselves upon the devotions of these intense Orientals. 
We felt ourselves out of place. We had put off our shoes, for the place we stood 
upon was holy ground. But we slunk back to the porch, and put them on again in 
silence. Outside, we emerged upon the nineteenth century and the world. Yet even 
so, we had walked some way down the Place de la Regence, among the chattering 
negro pedlars, before one of us dared to exchange a single word with the other. 

If the new town of Algiers is interesting, however, the old town is unique, 
indescribable, incomprehensible. No map could reproduce it; no clue could unravel it. 
It climbs and clambers by tortuous lanes and steep staircases up the sheer side of a 



high hill to the old fortress of the Deys that 
sunshine ever penetrates down those narrow 
people can just pass abreast, brushing their 
with their feet in the 
poached filth of the gutter. 
The dirt that chokes the 
sides is to the dirt of Italy 
as the dirt of Italy is to 
the dirt of Whitechapel. And 
yet so quaint, so picturesque, 
so interesting is it all, that 
even delicate English ladies, 
with the fear of typhoid 
fever for ever before their 
eyes, cannot refuse themselves 
the tremulous joy of visiting 
it and exploring it over and 
over again ; nay, more, of 
standing to bargain for old 
brass-work or Algerian em- 
broidery with keen Arab 
shopkeepers in its sunless 
labyrinths. Except the 
Mooskee at Cairo, indeed, I 
know no place yet left where 
you can see Oriental life in 
perfection as well as the old 
town of Algiers. For are 
there not tramways nowa- 
days even in the streets of 
Damascus ? Has not a rail- 
way station penetrated the 
charmed heart of Stamboul ? 
The Frank has done his 
worst for the lower town of 
his own building, but the upper town still 
and as insanitary as ever. No Pasteur could 
In those malodorous little alleys, where 
is vile, nobody really walks ; veiled figures 

crowns the summit. Not one gleam of 
slits between the houses, where two 
elbows against the walls, and treading 

Harbour of Algiers. 

remains as picturesque, as mysterious, 
clean out those Augean stables, 
every prospect pleases and every scent 
glide softly as if to inaudible music ; 


Indies, mulHed up to their eyes, use those solitary features with great effect upon 
flu- casual passer-hy ; old .Moors, in stately robes, emerge with stealthy tread from 
half-unseeH doorways boys dad in a single shirt sit and play pitch-and-toss for 
pence on dark steps. I'lverything reeks impartially of dirt and of mystery. All 
is -loom and shade. You could believe anything on earth of that darkling old 
to\\n. There all Oriental fancies might easily come true, all fables might revive, 
all dead history might repeat itself. 

These two incongruous worlds, the ancient and the modern town, form the 
two great divisions of Algiers as the latter-day tourist from our cold North 
knows it. The one is antique, lazy, sleepy, unprogressive ; the other is bustling, 
new-world, busy, noisy, commercial. But there is yet a third Algiers that lies well 
without the wall, the Algiers of the stranger and of the winter resident. Hither 
Mr. Cook conducts his eager neophytes; hither the Swiss innkeeper summons his 
cosmopolitan guests. It reaches its culminating point about three miles from the 
town, on the heights of Mustapha Superieur, where charming villas spread thick over 
the sunlit hills, and where the Western visitor can enjoy the North African air 
without any unpleasant addition of fine old crusted Moorish perfumes. 

The road to Mustapha Superieur lies through the Bab-Azzoun gate, and passes 
first along a wide street thronged with Arabs and Kabyles from the country and 
the mountains. This is the great market road of Algiers, the main artery of 
supplies, a broad thoroughfare lined with fondoufa or caravanserais, where the 
\\cary camel from the desert deposits his bales of dates, and where black faces of 
Saharan negroes smile out upon the curious stranger from dense draping folds of 
some dirty burnouse. The cafes are filled with every variety of Moslem, Jew, Turk, 
and infidel. Nowhere else will you see to better advantage the wonderful variety of 
races and costumes that distinguishes Algiers above most other cosmopolitan 
Mediterranean cities. The dark M'zabite from the oases, arrayed like Joseph in 
a coat of many colours, stands chatting at his own door with the pale-faced 
melancholy Berber of the Aures mountains. The fat and dusky Moor, over-fed on 
koiis-kous, jostles cheek by jowl with the fair Jewess in her Paisley shawl and 
quaint native head-gear. Mahounais Spaniards from the Balearic Isles, girt round 
their waists with red scarves, talk gaily to French missionary priests in violet bands 
and black cassocks. Old Arabs on white donkeys amble with grave dignity down the 
centre of the broad street, where chasseurs in uniform and spahis in crimson cloaks 
keep them company on fiery steeds from the Government stud at Blidah. All is 
noise and bustle, hurry, scurry, and worry, the ant-hill life of an Eastern bazaar 
grotesquely superimposed on the movement and stir of a great European city. 

You pass through the gates of the old Moorish town and find yourself at 
once in a modern but still busy suburb. Then on a sudden the road begins to 



mount the steep Mustapha slope by sharp zigzags and bold gradients. In native 
Algerian days, before Allah in his wisdom mysteriously permitted the abhorred 
infidel to bear sway in the Emerald City over the Faithful of Islam, a single narrow 
mule-path, ascended from the town wall to the breezy heights of Mustapha. It still 
exists, though deserted, that old breakneck Mussulman road, a deep cutting through 
soft stone, not unlike a Devonshire lane, all moss-grown and leafy, a favourite haunt 
of the naturalist and the trap-door spider. But the French engineers, most famous 
of road-makers, knew a more excellent way. Shortly after the conquest they 
carved a zigzag carriage-drive of splendid dimensions up that steep hill-front, and 
paved it well with macadam of most orthodox solidity. At the top, in proof of 
their triumph over nature and the Moslem, they raised a tiny commemorative 
monument, the Colonne Voirol, after their commander's name, now the Clapham 
Junction of all short excursions among the green dells of the Sahel. 

The Mustapha road, on its journey uphill, passes many exquisite villas of 
the old Moorish corsairs. The most conspicuous is that which now forms the 
Governor - General's Summer Palace, a gleaming white marble pile of rather 
meretricious and over-ornate exterior, but all glorious within, to those who know 
the secret of decorative art, with its magnificent heirloom of antique tiled dados. 
Many of the other ancient villas, however, and notably the one occupied by 
Lady Mary Smith-Barry, are much more really beautiful, even if less externally 
pretentious, than the Summer Palace. One in particular, near the last great bend 
of the road, draped from the ground to the fiat roof with a perfect cataract of 
bloom by a crimson bougainvillea, may rank among the most picturesque and 
charming homes in the French dominions. 

It is at Mustapha, or along the El Biar road, that the English colony of 
residents or winter visitors almost entirely congregates. Nothing can be more 
charming than this delicious quarter, a wilderness of villas, with its gleaming white 
Moorish houses half lost in rich gardens of orange, palm, and cypress trees. How 
infinitely lovelier these Eastern homes than the fantastic extravagances of the 
Californie at Cannes, or the sham antiques on the Mont Boron ! The native 
North African style of architecture answers exactly to the country in whose midst 
it was developed. In our cold northern climes those open airy arcades would 
look chilly and out of place, just as our castles and cottages would look dingy 
and incongruous among the sunny nooks of the Atlas. But here, on the basking 
red African soil, the milk-white Moorish palace with its sweeping Saracenic arches, 
its tiny round domes, its flat, terraced roofs, and its deep perspective of shady 
windows, seems to fit in with land and climate as if each were made for the 
other. Life becomes absolutely fairy-like in these charming old homes. Each seems 
for the moment while you are in it j-ust a dream in pure marble. 




Moorish J'illa, with Bay of Algiers. 

I am aware that to describe a true Moorish villa 
is like describing the flavour of a strawberry ; the one must be tasted, the other 
seen. But still, as the difficulty of a task gives zest to the attempt at surmounting 
it, I will try my hand at a dangerous word -picture. Most of the Mustapha 
houses have an outer entrance-court, to which you obtain admission from the road 
by a plain, and often rather heavy, archway. But, once you have reached the first 
atrium, or uncovered central court, you have no reason to complain of heaviness or 
want of decoration. The court-yard is generally paved with parti-coloured marble, 
and contains in its centre a Pompeian-looking fountain, whose cool water bubbles over 
into a shallow tank beneath it. Here reeds and tall arums lift their stately green 
foliage, and bright pond-blossoms rear on high their crimson heads of bloom. Bound 
the quadrangle runs a covered arcade (one might almost say a cloister) of horse-shoe 
arches, supported by marble columns, sometimes Graeco-Koman antiques, sometimes 
a little later in date, but admirably imitated from the originals. This outer court 
is often the most charming feature of the whole house. Here, on sultry days, 
the ladies of the family sit with their books or their fancy-work ; here the lord 
of the estate smokes his afternoon cigar ; here the children play in the shade 
during the hottest African noon-day. It is the place for the siesta, for the 
afternoon tea, for the lounge in the cool of the evening, for the joyous sense of 
the delight of mere living. 

From the court-yard a second corridor leads into the house itself, whose centre 
is always occupied by a large square court, like the first in ground-plan, but 



two-storeyed and glass-covered. This is the hall, or first reception room, often the 
principal apartment of the whole house, from which the other rooms open out in 
every direction. Usually the ground-floor of the hall has an open arcade, supporting 
a sort of halcony or 
gallery above, which 
runs right round the 
first floor on top of it. 
This balcony is itself 
arcaded ; but instead of 
the arches being left 
open the whole way up, 
they are filled in for 
the first few feet from 
the floor with a charm- 
ing balustrade of carved 
Cairene woodwork. 
Imagine t such a court, 
ringed round with string- 
courses of old Oriental 
tiles, and decorated with 
a profusion of fine pot- 
tery and native brass- 
work, and you may form 
to yourself some faint 
mental picture of the 
common remodelled Al- 
gerian villa. It makes 
one envious again to 
remember how many 
happy days one has 
spent in some such charming retreats, homes where all the culture and artistic 
taste of the West have been added to all the exquisite decorative instinct and 
insight of the Oriental architect. 

Nor are fair outlooks wanting. From many points of view on the Mustapha Hill 
the prospect is among the most charming in the western Mediterranean. Sir 
Lambert Playfair, indeed, the learned and genial British Consul-General whose 
admirable works on Algeria have been the delight of every tourist who visits 
that beautiful country, is fond of saying that the two finest views on the Inland 
Sea are, first, that from the Greek Theatre at Taormina, and, second, that from 


Woman Praying to a Sacred Tree. 

ivo mi-: rn'Ti'in-:x<jUE MEDITEIHI. \XEAN. 

his own dining-room windows on the hill-top at F,l Biar. This is very strong 
praise, and it conies from the author of a handbook to the Mediterranean who 
has seen that sea in all aspects, from Gibraltar to Syria; yet I fancy it is too 
high, especially when one considers that among the excluded scenes must be put 
Naples, Sorrento, Amain, Palermo, and the long stretch of Venice as seen from 
the Lido. I would myself even rank the outlook on Monaco from the slopes of 
Cap Martin, and the glorious panorama of Nice and the Maritime Alps from the 
Lighthouse Hill at Antibes, above any picture to be seen from the northern 
spurs of the Sahel. Let us be just to Piraeus before we are generous to El 
Biar. But all this is, after all, a mere matter of taste, and no lover of 
the picturesque would at any rate deny that the Bay of Algiers, as viewed 
from the Mustapha Hill, ranks deservedly high among the most beautiful sights 
of the Mediterranean. And when the sunset lights up in rosy tints the white 
mole and the marble town, the resulting scene is sometimes one of almost 
fairy-like splendour. 

Indeed, the country round Mustapha is a district of singular charm and manifold 
beauty. The walks and drives are delicious. Great masses of pale white clematis 
hang in sheets from the trees, cactus and aloe run riot among the glens, sweet scents 
of oleander float around the deep ravines, delicious perfumes of violets are wafted on 
every breeze from unseen and unsuspected gardens. Nowhere do I know a landscape 
so dotted with houses, and nowhere are the houses themselves so individually 
interesting. The outlook over the bay, the green dells of the foreground, the town 
on its steep acclivity, the points and headlands, and away above all, in the opposite 
direction, the snow-clad peaks of the Djurjura, make up a picture that, after all, has 
few equals or superiors on our latter-day planet. 

One of the sights of Mustapha is the Arab cemetery, where once a week the 
women go to pray and wail, with true Eastern hyperbole, over the graves of their dead 
relations. By the custom of Islam they are excluded from the mosques and from 
all overt participation in the public exercises of religion; but these open-air temples 
not made with hands even the Prophet himself has never dared to close to them. 
Ancestor-worship and the veneration of the kindred dead have always borne a large 
part in the domestic creed of the less civilised Semites, and, like many other traces of 
heathenism, this antique cult still peeps sturdily through the thin veil of Mohammedan 
monotheism. Every hillock in the Atlas outliers is crowned by the tiny domed 
tomb, or konlba, of some local saint; every sacred grove overshadows the relics of 
some reverend Marabout. Nay, the very oldest forms of Semitic idolatry, the cult 
of standing stones, of holy trees, and of special high places on the mountain-tops, 
survive to this day even in the midst of Islam. It is the women in particular who 
keep alive these last relics of pre-Moslem^ faith ; it is the women that one may see 


weeping over the narrow graves of their loved ones, praying for the great desire of 
the Semitic heart, a man-child from Allah, before the sacred tree of their pagan 
ancestors, or hanging rags and dolls as offerings about the holy grove which encloses 
the divine spring of pure and hallowed water. 

Algiers is thus in many ways one of the most picturesque winter resorts open 
within easy reach to the English tourist. But it has one great drawback : the 
climate is moist and the rainfall excessive. Those who go there must not expect 
the dry desert breeze that renders Luxor and Assiout so wholesome and so 
unpleasant. Beautiful vegetation means rain and heat. You will get both in 
Algiers, and a fine Mediterranean tossing on your journey each way to impress 
it on your memory. The goal is delicious, but the voyage is the worst on any sea 

I am acquainted with. 


The Coast near Viarcggio, where Shelley's body was found. 



Bay of Spezzia is defined sharply enough on its western side by the long, 
hilly peninsula which parts it from the Mediterranean, hut as this makes only 
a small angle with the general trend of the coast-line its termination is less strongly 
marked on the opposite side. Of its beauties we have spoken in an earlier article, 
but there is a little town at the southern extremity which, in connection with the 
coast below, has a melancholy interest to every lover of English literature. Here, 
at Lerici, Shelley spent what proved to be the last months' of his life. The town 
itself, once strongly fortified by its Pisan owners against their foes of Genoa on the 
one side and Lucca on the other, is a picturesque spot. The old castle crowns a 
headland, guarding the little harbour and overlooking the small but busy town. At 
a short distance to the south-east is the Casa Magni, once a Jesuit seminary, which 
was occupied by Shelley. Looking across the beautiful gulf to the hills on its 
'opposite shore and the island of Porto Venere, but a few miles from the grand 
group of the Carrara mountains, in the middle of the luxuriant scenery of the 
Eastern Riviera, the house, though in itself not very attractive, was a fit home 
for a lover of nature. But Shelley's residence within its walls was too soon cut 
short. There are strange tales (like those told with bated breath by old nurses by 
the fireside) that as the closing hour approached the spirits of the unseen world 
took bodily form and became visible to the poet's eye; tales of a dark-robed figure 
standing by his bedside beckoning him to follow ; of a laughing child rising from 
the sea as he walked by moonlight on the terrace, clapping its hands in glee ; 
and of other warnings that the veil which parted him from the spirit world was 
vanishing away. Shelley delighted in the sea. On the 1st of July he left Lerici for 
Leghorn in a small sailing vessel. On the 8th lie set out to return, accompanied 



only by his friend, Mr. Williams, and an English lad. The afternoon was hot 
and sultry, and as the sun became low a fearful squall burst upon the neighbouring 
sea. What happened no one exactly knows, but the}' never came back to the shore. 
Day followed day, and the great sea kept its secret ; but at last, on the 22nd, 
the corpse of Shelley was washed up near Viareggio and that of Williams near 
Bocca Lerici, three miles away. It was not till three weeks afterwards that the 
body of the sailor lad came ashore. Probably the felucca had either capsized, or 
had been swamped at the first break of the storm ; but when it was found, some 
three months afterwards, men said that it looked as if it had been run down, and 
even more ugly rumours got abroad that this was no accident, but the work of 
some Italians, done in the 
hope of plunder, as it was 
expected that the party 
had in charge a consider- 
able sum of money. The 
bodies were at first buried 
in the sand with quick- 
lime ; but at that time the 
Tuscan law required " any 
object then cast ashore to 
be burned, as a precaution 
against plague," so, by the 
help of friends, the body of 
Shelley was committed to 
the flames " with fuel and 

frankincense, wine, salt, and oil, the accompaniments of a Greek cremation," in the 
presence of Byron, Leigh Hunt, and Trelawny. The corpse of Williams had been 
consumed in like fashion on the previous day. " It was a glorious day and a splendid 
prospect ; the cruel and calm sea before, the Apennines behind. A curlew wheeled 
close to the pyre, screaming, and would not be driven away ; the flames arose golden 
and towering." The inurned ashes were entombed, as everyone knows, in the 
Protestant burial ground at Borne by the side of Keats' grave, near the pyramid of 
Cestius. Much as there was to regret in Shelley's life, there was more in his death, 
for such genius as his is rare, and if the work of springtide was so glorious, what 
might have been the summer fruitage ? 

As the Gulf of Spezzia is left behind, the Magra broadens out into an estuary as 
it enters the sea, the river which formed in olden days the boundary between Liguria 
and Etruria. Five miles from the coast, and less than half the distance from 
the river, is Sarzana, the chief city of the province, once fortified, and still 

Casa RTagni, 


containing a cathedral of some interest. It once gave birth to a Pope, Nicholas V., 
the founder of the Vatican Library, and in the neighbourhood the family of 
the Buonapartes had their origin, a branch of it having emigrated to Corsica. 
Sar/ana bore formerly the name of Luna Nova, as it had replaced another Luna 
which stood nearer to the mouth of the river. This was in ruins even in the days 
of Lucan, and now the traveller from Sarauza to Pisa sees only " a strip of 
low, grassy laud intervening between him and the sea. Here stood the ancient 
city. There is little enough to see. Beyond a few crumbling tombs and a 
fragment or two of Komau ruins, nothing remains of Luna. The fairy scene 
described by Rutilius, so appropriate to the spot which bore the name of the 
virgin-queen of heaven, the ' fair white walls ' shaming with their brightness the 
untrodden snow, the smooth, many-tinted rocks overrun with laughing lilies, if 
not the pure creation of the poet, have now vanished from the sight. Vestiges of 
an amphitheatre, of a semicircular building which may be a theatre, of a circus, 
a piscina, and fragments of columns, pedestals for statues, blocks of pavement and 
inscriptions, are all that Luna has now to show." 

But all the while the grand group of the Carrara hills is in view, towering 
above a lowland region which rolls down towards the coast. A branch line now 
leads from Avenza, a small seaport town from which the marble is shipped, to 
the town of Carrara, through scenery of singular beauty. The shelving banks and 
winding slopes of the foreground hills are clothed with olives and oaks and other 
trees ; here and there groups of houses, white and grey and pink, cluster around 
a campanile tower on some coign of vantage, while at the back rises the great 
mountain wall of the Apuan Alps, with its gleaming crags, scarred, it must be 
admitted, rather rudely and crudely by its marble quarries, though the long slopes 
of screes beneath these gashes in the more distant views almost resemble the 
Alpine snows. The situation of the town is delightful, for it stands at the 
entrance of a rapidly narrowing valley, in a sufficiently elevated position to 
command a view of this exquisitely rich lowland as it shelves and rolls down to 
the gleaming sea. Nor is the place itself devoid of interest. One of its churches 
at least, S. Andrea, is a really handsome specimen of the architecture of this 
part of Italy in the thirteenth century, but the quarries dominate, and their 
products are everywhere. Here are the studios of sculptors and the ateliers of 
workmen. The fair white marble here, like silver in the days of Solomon, is of 
little account; it paves the streets, builds the houses, serves even for the basest 
uses, and is to be seen strewn or piled up everywhere to await dispersal by the 
trains to more distant regions. Beyond the streets of Carrara, in the direction of 
the mountains, carriage roads no longer exist. Lanes wind up the hills here 
and there in rather bewildering intricacy, among vines and olive groves, to 


hamlets and quarries ; one, indeed, of rather larger size and more fixity of 
direction, keeps for a time near the river, if indeed the stream which flows by 
Carrara be worthy of that name, except when the storms are breaking or the 
snows are melting upon the mountains. But all these lanes alike terminate 
in a quarry, are riven with deep ruts, ploughed up like a field by the wheels of 
the heavy waggons that bring down the great blocks of marble. One meets 
these grinding and groaning on their way, drawn by yokes of dove-coloured oxen 
(longer than that with which Elisha was ploughing when the older prophet cast his 
mantle upon his shoulders), big, meek-looking beasts, mild-eyed and melancholy as the 
lotus-eaters. To meet them is not always an unmixed pleasure, for the lanes are 
narrow, and there is often no room to spare ; how the traffic is regulated in 
some parts is a problem which I have not yet solved. 

Carrara would come near to being an earthly paradise were it not for the 
mosquitos, which are said to be such that they would have made even the Garden 
of Eden untenable, especially to its first inhabitants. Of them, however, I cannot 
speak, for I have never slept in the town, or even visited it at the season when 
this curse of the earth is at its worst ; but I have no hesitation in asserting that the 
mountains of Carrara are not less beautiful in outline than those of any part of the 
main chain of the Alps of like elevation, while they are unequalled in colour and 
variety of verdure. 

To Avenza succeeds Massa, a considerable town, beautifully situated among 
olive-clad heights, which are spotted with villas and densely covered with foliage. 
Like Carrara, it is close to the mountains, and dispiites with Carrara for 
the reputation of its quarries. This town was once the capital of a duchy, 
Massa-Carrara, and the title was borne by a sister of Napoleon I. Her large 
palace still remains ; her memory should endure, though not precisely in honour, 
for, according to Mr. Hare, she pulled down the old cathedral to improve the view 
from her windows. But if Massa is beautiful, so is Pietra Santa, a much 
smaller town enclosed by old walls and singularly picturesque in outline. It has 
a fine old church, with a picturesque campanile, which, though slightly more modern 
than the church itself, has seen more than four centuries. The piazza, with the 
Town Hall, this church and another one, is a very characteristic feature. In the 
baptistry of one of the churches are some bronzes by Donatello. About half-a-dozen 
miles away, reached by a road which passes through beautiful scenery, are the marble 
quarries of Seravezza, which were first opened by Michael Angelo, and are still in 
full work. There is only one drawback to travelling by railway in this region ; the 
train goes too fast. Let it be as slow as it will, and it can be very slow, we can 
never succeed in coming to a decision as to which is the most picturesquely situated 
place or the most lovely view. Comparisons notoriously are odious, but delightful 

as undoubtedly is the Hivieni <li I'onenta to me, tlie Riviera <li Levaute seems even 
jnore lovely. 

Aftei- I'irtra Sania, however, the scenery becomes less attractive, the Apuan 
Alps begin to be left behind, and a wider strip of plain parts the Apennines from 
the sea. This, which is traversed by the railway, is in itself flat, stale, though perhaps 
not unprofitable to the husbandman. Viareggio, mentioned on a previous page, 
nestles among its woods of oaks and pines, a place of some little note as a health 
resort; and then the railway after emerging from the forest strikes away from 
the sea, and crosses the marshy plains of the Serchio, towards the banks of the Arno. 

It now approaches the grand group of ecclesiastical buildings which rise above 
the walk of Pisa. As this town lies well inland, being six miles from the sea, we 
must content ourselves with a brief mention. But a long description is needless, for 
who does not know of its cathedral and its Campo Santo, of its baptistry and its 
leaning tower? There is no more marvellous or complete group of ecclesiastical 
buildings in Europe, all built of the white marble of Carrara, now changed by age 
into a delicate cream colour, but still almost dazzling in the glory of the midday 
sun, yet never so beautiful as when walls, arches, and pinnacles are aglow at its 
rising or flushed at its setting. In the cloisters of the Campo Santo you may 
see monuments which range over nearly five centuries, and contrast ancient and 

Between Leg/torn ami (Jrosselo. 



modern art ; the frescoes on their walls, though often ill preserved and not seldom 
of little merit, possess no small interest as illustrating mediaeval notions of a gospel 
of love and peace. Beneath their roof at the present time are sheltered a few relics 
of Roman and Etruscan days which will repay examination. The very soil also of 
this God's acre is not without an interest, for when the Holy Land was lost 
to the Christians, fifty -and -three shiploads of earth were brought hither from 
that the 
dead of Pisa 
might rest 
in ground 
which had 
heen sancti- 
fied by the 
visible pre- 
sence of their 
Re dee iner. 
The cathe- 
d r a 1 is a 
grand exam- 
ple of the 
severe but 

stately style which was in favour about the 
end of the eleventh century, for it was 
consecrated in the year 1118. It comme- 
morates a great naval victory won by the 
Pisans, three years before the battle of 
Hastings, and the columns which support 

the arches of the interior were at once the spoils of classic buildings and the 
memorials of Pisan victories. The famous leaning tower, though later in date, 
harmonises well in general style with the cathedral. Its position, no doubt, attracts 
most attention, for to the eye it seems remarkably insecure, but one cannot 
help wishing that the settlement had never occurred, for the slope is sufficient to 
interfere seriously with the harmony of the group. The baptistry also harmonises 
with the cathedral, though it was not begun till some forty years after the latter 
was completed, and not only was more than a century in building, but also received 
some ornamental additions in the fourteenth century. But though this cathedral 
group is the glory and the crown of Pisa, the best monument of its proudest days, 
there are other buildings of interest in the town itself; and the broad quays which 




Hank the Arno on each side, the Lungarno by name, which form a continuous 
pa-sage from one end of the town to the other, together with the four bridges which 
link its older and newer part, are well worthy of more than a passing notice. 

The laud bordering the Arno between Pisa and its junction with the 
Mediterranean has no charm for the traveller, however it may commend itself to the 
farmer. A few miles south of the liver's mouth is Leghorn, and on the eleven 
miles' journey by rail from it to Pisa the traveller sees as much, and perhaps 
more, than he could wisli of the delta of the Arno. It is a vast alluvial plain, 
always low-lying, in places marshy; sometimes meadow land, sometimes arable. 
Here and there are slight and inconspicuous lines of dunes, very probably the 
records of old sea margins as the river slowly encroached upon the Mediterranean, 
which are covered sometimes with a grove of pines. Were it not for these and for 
occasional large oak woods, one might almost expect to see the towers of 
Peterborough rising in the distance instead of the dome and campanile of Pisa, so 
much does the scenery remind us of the fen-land of East Anglia. 

Leghorn is not an old town, and has little attraction for the antiquarian or the 
artist. In fact, I think it, for its size, the most uninteresting town, whether on the 
sea or inland, that I have entered in Italy. Brindisi is a dreary hole, but it has 
one or two objects of interest. Bari is not very attractive, but it has two churches, 
the architecture of which will repay long study ; but Leghorn is almost a miracle of 
commonplace architecture and of dulness. Of course there is a harbour, of course 
there are ships, of course there is the sea, and all these possess a certain charm ; but 
really this is about as small as it can be under the circumstances. The town was a 
creation of the Medici, " the masterpiece of that dynasty." In the middle of the 
sixteenth century it was an insignificant place, with between seven and eight 
hundred inhabitants. But it increased rapidly when the princes of that family took 
the town in hand and made it a cave of Adullam, whither the discontented or 
oppressed from other lands might resort : Jews and Moors from Spain and Portugal, 
escaping from persecution; Eoman Catholics from England, oppressed by the 
retaliatory laws of Elizabeth; merchants from Marseilles, seeking refuge from civil 
war. Thus fostered, it was soon thronged by men of talent and energy; it rapidly 
grew into an important centre of commerce, and now the town with its suburbs 
contains nearly a hundred thousand souls. 

Leghorn is intersected by canals, sufficiently so to have been sometimes called a 
"Little Venice," and has been fortified, but as the defences belong to the system of 
Yauban, they add little to either the interest or the pici uresqueness of the place. 
Parts of the walls and the citadel remain, the latter being enclosed by a broad 
water-ditch. The principal street has some good shops, and there are two fairly 
large pia/xas; in one, bearing the name of Carlo Alberto, are statues of heroic size to 


the last Grand Duke and to his predecessor. The inscription on the latter is highly 
flattering ; but that on the former states that the citizens had come to the conclusion 
that the continuance of the Austro-Lorenese dynasty was incompatible with the good 
order and happiness of Tuscany, and had accordingly voted union with Italy. The 
other piazza now bears Victor Emmanuel's name ; in it are a building which formerly 
was a royal palace, the town hall, and the cathedral ; the last a fair-sized church, 
but a rather plain specimen of the Renaissance style, with some handsome columns of 
real marble and a large amount of imitation, painted to match. There are also some 
remains of the old fortifications, though they are not so very old, by the side of the 
inner or original harbour. As this in course of time proved too shallow for vessels of 
modern bulk, the Porto Nuovo, or outer harbour, was begun nearly forty years since, 
and is protected from the waves by a semicircular mole. Among the other lions of 
the place, and they are all very small, is a statue of Duke Ferdinand I., one of the 
founders of Leghorn, with four Turkish slaves about the pedestal. The commerce 
of Leghorn chiefly consists of grain, cotton, wool, and silk, and is carried on mainly 
with the eastern ports of the Mediterranean There is also an important shipbuilding 
establishment. It has, however, one link of interest with English literature, for in 
the Protestant cemetery was buried Tobias Smollett. There is a pleasant public 
walk by the sea margin outside the town, from where distant views of Elba and 
other islands are obtained. 

The hilly ground south of the broad valley of the Arno is of little interest, 
and for a considerable distance a broad strip of land, a level plain of cornfields and 
meadow, intervenes between the sea and the foot of the hills. Here and there 
long lines of pine woods seem almost to border the former ; the rounded spurs of the 
latter are thickly wooded, but are capped here and there by grey villages, seemingly 
surrounded by old walls, and are backed by the bolder outlines of the more distant 
Apennines. For many a long mile this kind of scenery will continue, this flat, 
marshy, dyke-intersected plain, so like a Cambridgeshire fen except for the grey tint 
of the soil, almost without a dwelling upon it, though village after village is seen 
perched like epaulettes on the low shoulders of the hills. It is easy to understand 
why they are placed in this apparently inconvenient position, for we are at the 
beginning of the Tuscan Maremrna, a district scourged by malaria during the summer 
months, and none too healthy, if one may judge by the looks of the peasants, 
during any time of the year. But one cannot fail to observe that towards the 
northern extremity houses have become fairly common on this plain, and many of 
them are new, so that the efforts which have been made to improve the district 
by draining seem to have met with success. For some time the seaward views are 
very fine ; comparatively near to the coast a hilly island rises steeply from the 
water and is crowned with a low round tower. Behind this lies Elba, a long, bold, 



hilly ridge, and far away, on a clear day, the great mountain mass of Corsica looms 
blue in the distance. 

Elba has its interests for the geologist, its beauties for the lover of scenery. 
It has quarries of granite and serpentine, but its fame rests on its iron mines, which 
have been noted from very early times and from which fine groups of crystals 
of hematite are still obtained. So famed was it in the days of the Roman Empire 
as to call forth from Virgil the well-known line, " Insula inexhaustis chalybum 
generosa metallis." When these, its masters, had long passed away, it belonged 

Elba, from Ike Main/ami. 

in turn to Pisa, to Genoa, to Lucca, and, after others, to the Grand Duke Cosimo 
of Florence. Then it became Neapolitan, and at last French. As everyone knows, it 
was assigned to Napoleon after his abdication, and from May, 1814, to February, 1815, 
he enjoyed the title of King of Elba. Then, while discontent was deepening in 
France, and ambassadors were disputing round the Congress-table at Vienna, he 
suddenly gave the slip to the vessels which were watching the coast and landed in 
France to march in triumph to Paris, to be defeated at Waterloo, and to die at 
St. Helena. 

The island is for the most part hilly, indeed almost mountainous, for it rises 
at one place nearly three thousand feet above the sea. The valleys and lower 
slopes are rich and fertile, producing good fruit and fair wine, and the views are 






is-_> THE ncTuiiESQi'i-; MEDITERRANEAN. 

often of great beauty. The fisheries are of some importance, especially that of 
the tunny. Porto Ferrajo, the chief town, is a picturesquely situated place, on the 
iinrthern side, which still rct.-iins the forts built by Cosiino I. to defend his newly 
obtained territory, and the mansion, a very modest palace, inhabited by Napoleon. 

" It must be confessed my isle is very little," was Napoleon's remark when for 
1 1 ic first time he looked around over his kingdom from a mountain summit above Porto 
Ferrajo. Little it is in reality, for the island is not much more than fifteen 
miles long, and at the widest part ten miles across ; and truly little it must have 
seemed to the man who had dreamed of Europe for his empire, and had half realised 
his vision. Nevertheless, as one of his historians remarks, " if an empire could be 
supposed to exist within such a brief space, Elba possesses so much both of beauty 
and variety as might constitute the scene of a summer night's dream of sovereignty." 

At first he professed to be " perfectly resigned to his fate, often spoke of himself 
as a man politically dead, and claimed credit for what he said on public affairs, as 
having no remaining interest in them." A comment on himself in connection with 
Elba is amusing. He had been exploring his new domain in the company of Sir 
Niel Campbell, and had visited, as a matter of course, the iron mines. On being 
informed that they were valuable, and brought in a revenue of about twenty thousand 
pounds per annum, "These then," he said, " are mine." But being reminded that he 
had conferred that revenue on the Legion of Honour, he exclaimed, "Where was my 
head when I made such a grant ? But I have made many foolish decrees of that sort ! " 

He set to work at once to explore every corner of the island, and then to design 
a number of improvements and alterations on a scale which, had they been carried 
into execution with the means which he possessed, would have perhaps taken his 
lifetime to execute. The instinct of the conqueror was by no means dead within him ; 
for " one of his first, and perhaps most characteristic, proposals was to aggrandise and 
extend his Lilliputian dominions by the occupation of an uninhabited island called 
Pianosa, which had been left" desolate on account of the frequent descents of the 
corsairs. He sent thirty of his guards, with ten of the independent company belonging 
to the island, upon this expedition (what a contrast to those which he had formerly 
directed!), sketched out a plan of fortification, and remarked with complacency, 
'Europe will say that I have already made a conquest.'" 

He was after a short time joined on the island by his mother and his sister 
Pauline, and not a few of those who had once fought under his nag drifted gradually 
to Elba and took service in his guards. A plot was organised in France, and when 

was ready Napoleon availed himself of the temporary absence of Sir Niel 
Campbell and of an English cruiser and set sail from Elba. 

At four in the afternoon of Sunday, the 26th February, " a signal gun was fired, 
the drums beat to arms, the officers tumbled what they could of their effects into 


flour-sacks, the men arranged their knapsacks, the embarkation began, and at eight 
in the evening they were under weigh." He had more than one narrow escape on 
his voyage ; for he w 7 as hailed by a French frigate. His soldiers, however, had 
concealed themselves, and his captain was acquainted with the commander of the 
frigate, so no suspicions were excited. Sir Niel Campbell also, as soon as he found 
out what had happened, gave chase in a sloop of war, but only arrived in time to 
obtain a distant view of Napoleon's flotilla as its passengers landed. 

Pianosa, the island mentioned above, lies to the north of Elba, and gets its 
name from its almost level surface ; for the highest point is said to be only eighty feet 
above the sea. Considering its apparent insignificance, it figures more than could be 
expected in history. The ill-fated son of Marcus Agrippa was banished here by 
Augustus, at the instigation of Livia, and after a time was more effectually put out 
of the way, in order to secure the succession for her son Tibemis. We read also 
that it was afterwards the property of Marcus Piso, who used it as a preserve for 
peacocks, which were here as wild as pheasants with us. Some remnants of Koman 
baths still keep up the memory of its former masters. Long afterwards it became a 
bone of contention between Pisa and Genoa, and the latter State, on permitting the 
former to resume possession of these islands of the Tuscan Archipelago, stipulated 
that Pianosa should be left for ever uncultivated and 'deserted. To secure the execution 
of this engagement the Genoese stopped up all the wells with huge blocks of rock. 

Capraja, a lovely island to the north-west of Elba, is rather nearer to Corsica 
than to Italy. Though less than four miles long, and not half this breadth, it rivals 
either in hilliness, for its ridges rise in two places more than fourteen hundred feet 
above the sea. Saracen, Genoese, Pisan, and Corsican have caused it in bygone times 
to lead a rather troubled existence, and even so late as 1796 Nelson knocked to 
pieces the fort which defended its harbour, and occupied the island. 

" The ' stagno,' or lagoon, the sea-marsh of Strabo, is a vast expanse of stagnant 
salt w r ater, so shallow that it may be forded in parts, yet never dried up by the 
hottest summer ; the curse of the country around for the foul and pestilent vapour 
and the swarms of mosquitoes and other insects it generates at that season, yet 
compensating the inhabitants with an abundance of fish. The fishery is generally 
carried on at night, and in the way often practised in Italy and Sicily, by harpooning 
the fish, which are attracted by a light in the prow of the boat. It is a curious 
sight on calm nights to see hundreds of these little skiffs or canoes wandering about 
with their lights, and making an ever-moving illumination on the surface of the lake."* 

Elba seems to maintain some relation with the mainland by means of the 
hilly promontory which supports the houses of Piornbino, a small town, chiefly 
interesting as being at no great distance from Populonia, an old Etruscan city of 

* Dennis : " Cities of Etruria." 


which some considerable ruins still remain. Here, when the clans gathered to bring 
back the Tarquins to Rome, stood 

"Sea-girt Pojiulonia, 
Whose sentinels descry 
Sardinia's snowy mountain tops 
Fringing the southern sky/' 

But long after Lars Porsenna of Clusium had retreated baffled from the broken 
bridge Populouia continued to be a place of some importance, for it has a castle 
erected in the Middle Ages. But now it is only a poor village ; it retains, however, 

Porto Ferrajo, from Napoleon's House. 

fragments of building recalling its Eoman masters, and its walls of polygonal masonry 
carry us back to the era of the Etruscans. 

It must not be forgotten that almost the whole of the coast line described in this 
article, from the river Magra to Civita Vecchia, belonged to that mysterious and, not 
so long since, almost unknown people, the Etruscans. Indeed, at one time their sway 
extended for a considerable distance north and south of these limits. Even now there 
i much dispute as to their origin, but they were a powerful and civilised race before 
Rome was so much as founded. They strove with it for supremacy in Italy, and were 
not finally subdued by that nation until the third century before our era. " Etruria 
was of old densely populated, not only in those parts which are still inhabited, but 
also, us is proved by remains of cities and cemeteries, in tracts now desolated by 



Napoleon's House. 

Porto Fcrrajo, Elba. 

malaria and relapsed into the desert ; and 
what is now the fen or the jungle, the 
hannt of the wild hoar, the buffalo, the 
fox, and the noxious reptile, where man 
often dreads to stay his steps, and hurries 
away from a plague-stricken land, of old yielded rich harvests of corn, wine, and oil, 
and contained numerous cities mighty and opulent, into whose laps commerce p.oured 
the treasures of the East and the more precious produce of Hellenic genius. Most 
of these ancient sites are now without a habitant, furrowed yearly by the plough, or 
forsaken as unprofitable wildernesses ; and such as are still occupied are, with few 
exceptions, mere phantoms of their pristine greatness, mere villages in the place of 
populous cities. On every hand are traces of bygone civilisation, inferior in quality, 
no doubt, to that which at present exists, biit much wider in extent and exerting 
far greater influence on the neighbouring nations and on the destinies of the world."* 
South of this headland the Maremma proper begins. Follonica, the only place 
for some distance which can be called a town, is blackened with smoke to an 
extent unusual in Italy, for here much of the iron ore from Elba is smelted. But 
the views in the neighbourhood, notwithstanding the flatness of the marshy or 
scrub-covered plain, are not without a charm. The inland hills are often attractive ; to 
the north lie the headland of Piombino and sea-girt Elba, to the south the promontory 
of Castiglione, which ends in a lower line of bluff capped by a tower, and the 
irregular little island of Formica. At Castiglione della Pescaia is a little harbour, 

* Di'imis: "Cities of Etrnria," I., i>. xxxii. 


186 '/'///; I'H'Tl-llKXQlJE MEDITERRANEAN. 

ODOfl fortified, which exports wood and charcoal, the products of the neighbouring hills. 
The promontory of Castiglione must once have been an island, for it is parted 
from the inland range by the level plain of the Maremma. Presently Grosseto, 
the picturesque capital of the Maremma, appears, perched on steeply rising ground 
above the enclosing plain, its sky-line relieved by a couple of low towers and a dome ; 
it has been protected with defences, which date probably from late in the seventeenth 
century. Then, after the Ombrone has been crossed, one of the rivers which issue 
from the Apennines, the promontory of Talamone comes down to the sea, protecting 
the village of the same name. It is a picturesque little place, overlooked by an 
old castle, and the anchorage is sheltered by the island of S. Giglio, quiet enough 
now, but the guide-book tells us that here, two hundred and twenty-five years before 
the Christian era, the Eoman troops disembarked and scattered an invading Gaulish 
army. But to the south lies another promontory on a larger scale than Talamone ; 
this is the Monte Argentario, the steep slopes of which are a mass of forests. The views 
on this part of the coast are exceptionally attractive. Indeed, it would be difficult to 
find anything more striking than the situation of Orbitello. The town lies at the 
foot of the mountain, for Argentario, since it rises full two thousand feet above the 
sea, and is bold in outline, deserves the name. It is almost separated from the 
mainland by a great salt-water lagoon, which is bounded on each side by two low 
and narrow strips of land. The best view is from the south, where we look across 
a curve of the sea to the town and to Monte Argentario with its double summit, 
which, as the border of the lagoon is so low, seems to be completely insulated. 

Orbitello is clearly proved to have been an Etruscan town ; perhaps, according 
to Mr. Dennis, founded by the Pelasgi, "for the foundations of the sea-wall which 
surrounds it on three sides are of vast polygonal blocks, just such as are seen in many 
ancient sites of central Italy (Norba, Segni, Paleestrina, to wit), and such as compose 
the walls of the neighbouring Cosa." Tombs of Etruscan construction have also been 
found in the immediate neighbourhood of the city, on the isthmus of sand which connects 
it with the mainland. Others also have been found within the circuit of the walls. 
The tombs have been unusually productive ; in part, no doubt, because they appear 
to have escaped earlier plunderers. Vases, numerous articles in bronze, and gold 
ornaments of great beauty have been found. Of the town itself, which from the 
distance has a very picturesque aspect, Mr. Dennis says : " It is a place of some size, 
having nearly three thousand inhabitants, and among Maremma towns is second only 
to Grosseto. It is a proof how much population tends to salubrity in the Maremma 
that Orbitello, though in the midst of a stagnant lagoon ten square miles in extent, 
is comparatively healthy, and has almost doubled its population in twenty-four years, 
while Telamona and other small places along the coast are almost deserted in summer, 
and the tew people that remain become bloated like wine-skins or yellow as lizards." 


But the inland district is full of ruins and remnants of towns which in many cases 
were strongholds long before Komulus traced out the lines of the walls of Rome 
with his plough, if indeed that ever happened. Ansedonia, the ancient Cosa, is a 
very few miles away, Eusellae, Saturnia, Sovana at a considerably greater distance ; 
farther to the south rises another of these forest-clad ridges which, whether 
insulated by sea or by fen, are so characteristic of this portion of the Italian coast. 
Here the old walls of Corno, another Etruscan town, may be seen to rise above 
the olive-trees and the holm-oaks. 

Beyond this the lowland becomes more undulating, and the foreground scenery 
a little less monotonous. Corneto now appears, crowning a gently shelving plateau 
at the end of a spur from the inland hills, which is guarded at last by a line of cliffs. 
Enclosed by a ring of old walls, like Cortona, it " lifts to heaven a diadem of towers." 
In site and in aspect it is a typical example of one of the old cities of Etruria. 
Three hundred feet and more above the plain which parts it from the sea, with the 
gleaming waters full in view on one side and the forest-clad ranges on the other, 
the outlook is a charming one, and the attractions within its walls are by no means 
slight. There are several old churches, and numerous Etruscan and Koman 
antiquities are preserved in the municipal museum. The town itself, however, is 
not of Etruscan origin, its foundation dates only from the Middle Ages ; but on 
an opposite and yet more insulated hill the ruins of Tarquinii, one of the great 
cities of the Etrurian League, can still be traced ; hardly less important than 
Veii, one of the most active cities in the endeavour to restore the dynasty of 
the Tarquins, it continued to flourish after it had submitted to Rome, but it 
declined in the dark days which followed the fall of the Empire, and never held 
up its head after it had been sacked by the Saracens, till at last it was deserted for 
Corneto, and met the usual fate of becoming a quarry for the new town. Only 
the remnants of buildings and of its defences are now visible ; but the great 
necropolis which lies to the south-east of the Corneto, and on the same spur 
with it, has yielded numerous antiquities. A romantic tale of its discovery, so late 
as 1823, is related in the guide-books. A native of Corneto in digging accidentally 
broke into a tomb. Through the hole he beheld the figure of a warrior extended 
at length, accoutred in full armour. For a few minutes he gazed astonished, then 
the form of the dead man vanished almost like a ghost, for it crumbled into dust 
under the influence of the fresh air. Numerous subterranean chambers have since 
been opened ; the contents, vases, bronzes, gems and ornaments, have been removed 
to museums or scattered among the cabinets of collectors, but the mural paintings 
still remain. They are the works of various periods from the sixth to the second 
or third century before the Christian era, and are indicative of the influence exercised 
by Greek art on the earlier inhabitants of Italy. 



As tlic headland,, crowned by the walls of Corneto, recedes into the distance 
a little riM-r is crossed, which, unimportant as it seems, has a place in ecclesiastical 
legend, for we are informed that at the Torre IVrtaldo, near its mouth, an angel 
dispelled St. Augustine's doubts on. the subject of the Trinity. Then the road 
approaches the largest port on the coast since Leghorn was left. Civita Yecchia, 
as the name implies, is an old town, which, after the decline of Ostia, served 
for centuries as the port of Koine. It was founded by Trajan, and sometimes 
bore his name in oldeu time, but there is little or nothing within the walls to 

Civita J'ecc/iia. 

indicate so great an antiquity. It was harried, like so many other places near 
the coast, by the Saracens, and for some years was entirely deserted, but about 
the middle of the ninth century the inhabitants returned to it, and the town, 
which then acquired its present name, by degrees grew into importance as the 
temporal power of the Papacy increased. If there is little to induce the 
traveller to halt, there is not much more to tempt the artist. Civita Yecchia 
occupies a very low and faintly defined headland. Its houses are whitish in 
colour, square in outline, and rather flat-topped. There are no conspicuous towers 
or domes. It was once enclosed by fortifications, built at various dates about the 
seventeenth century. These, however, have been removed on the land side, but 
still remain fairly perfect in the neighbourhood of the harbour, the entrance to 











190 '/'///; PICTURESQUE Mi-:i>iTi<:iiii.i\'i-:.\\. 

which is protected liy a small island, from which rises a low massive lower and 
a high circular pharos. There is neither animation nor commerce left in the 
place ; what little there was disappeared when the railway was opened. It is 
living up to its name, and its old age cannot he called vigorous. 

South of Civita Veccliia the coast region, though often monotonous enough. 

becomes for a time slightly more diversified. There is still some marshy ground, 

still some level plain, hut the low and gently rolling hills which border the main 

mass of the Apennines extend at times down to the sea, and even diversify its 

coast-line, broken by a low headland. This now and again, as at Santa Marinella, is 

crowned by an old castle. All around much evergreen scrub is seen, here growing in 

tufts among tracts of coarse herbage, there expanding into actual thickets of considerable 

extent, and the views sometimes become more varied, and even pretty. Santa Severa, 

a large castle built of grey stone, with its keep-like group of higher towers on its low 

crag overlooking the sea, reminds us of some old fortress on the Fifeshire coast. 

Near this headland, so antiquarians say, was Pyrgos, once the port of the Etruscan 

town of Caere, which lies away among the hills at a distance of some half-dozen 

miles. Here and there also a lonely old tower may be noticed along this part of 

the coast. These recall to mind in their situation, though they are more picturesque 

in their aspect, the Martello Towers on the southern coast of England. Like them, 

they are a memorial of troublous times, when the invader w r as dreaded. They were 

erected to protect the Tuscan coast from the descents of the Moors, who for centuries 

were the dread of the Mediterranean. Again and again 'these corsairs swooped 

down ; now a small flotilla would attack some weakly defended town ; now a single 

ship would land its boat-load of pirates on some unguarded beach to plunder a 

neighbouring village or a few scattered farms, and would retreat from the raid with 

a little spoil and a small band of captives, doomed to slavery, leaving behind 

smoking ruins and bleeding corpses. It is strange to think how long it was 

before perfect immunity was . secured from these curses of the Mediterranean. 

England, whatever her enemies may say, has done a few good deeds in her time, 

and one of the best was when her fleet, under the command of Admiral Pellew, 

shattered the forts of Algiers and burnt every vessel of the pirate fleet. 

The scenery for a time continues to improve. The oak woods become higher, 
the inland hills are more varied in outline and are forest-clad. Here peeps out a crag, 
there a village or a castle. At Palo a large, unattractive villa and a picturesque old 
castle overlook a fine line of sea-beach, where the less wealthy classes in Koine 
come down for a breath of fresh air in the hot days of summer. It also marks 
ute of Alsium, where, in Roman times, one or two personages of note, of whom 
Pompey was the most important, had country residences. For a time there is no 
more level plain ; the land everywhere shelves gently to the sea, covered with wood 



Orbitcllo ami San Slefano. 

or witli coarse herbage. But before long there is another change, and the great 
plain of the Tiber opens out before our eyes, extending on one hand to the not 
distant sea, on the other to the hills of Eome. It is flat, dreary, and unattractive, 
at any rate in the winter season, as is the valley of the Nen below Peterborough, 
or of the With am beyond the Lincolnshire wolds. It is cut up by dykes, which 
are bordered by low banks. Here and there herds of mouse-coloured oxen with 
long horns are feeding, and hay-ricks, round with low conical tops, are features 
more conspicuous than cottages. The Tiber winds on its serpentine course through 
this fenland plain, a muddy stream, which it was complimentary for the Eomans to 
designate flavus, unless that word meant a colour anything but attractive. One low 
tower in the distance marks the site of Porto, another that of Ostia, and near the 
latter a long grove of pines is a welcome variation to the monotony of the landscape. 
These two towns have had their day of greatness. The former, as its name 
implies, was once the port of Eome, and in the early days of Christianity was a 
place of note. It was founded by Trajan, in the neighbourhood of a harbour 
constructed by Claudius ; for this, like that of Ostia, which it was designed to replace, 
was already becoming choked up. But though emperors may propose, a river 
disposes, especially when its mud is in question. The port of Trajan has long 
since met with the same fate ; it is now only a shallow basin two miles from the 
sea. Of late years considerable excavations have been made at Porto on the estate 


<>!' Prince Tortonia, to \vlnnu the -whole >ite helongs. The port constructed by 
Trajan was hexagonal in form ; it \vas surrounded hy warehouses and communicated 
with the sea hy a canal. Piet \\een il and the outer or Claudian port a palace was 
built for the emperor, and the remains of the wall erected hy Constantino to 
protect the harbour on the side of the land can still be seen. The only media'val 
antiquities which Porto contains are the old castle, which serves as the episcopal 
palace, and the tower of the church of Santa Rnfina, which is at least as old as 
the tenth century. 

Ostia, which is a place of much greater antiquity than Porto, is not so 
deserted, though its star declined as that of the other rose. Founded, as some 
say, by Ancus Martins, it was the port of Koine until the first century of the 
present era. Then the silting up of its communication with the sea caused the 
transference of the commerce to Porto, but " the fame of the temple of Castor 
and Pollux, the numerous villas of the Roman patricians abundantly scattered along 
the coast, and the crowds of people who frequented its shores for the benefit of 
sea bathing, sustained the prosperity of the city for some time after the destruction 
of its harbour." But at last it went down hill, and then invaders came. Once it 
had contained eighty thousand inhabitants ; in the days of the Medici it was a poor 
village, and the people eked out their miserable existences by making lime of the 
marbles of the ruined temples ! So here the vandalism of peasants, even more than 
of patricians, has swept away many a choice relic of classic days. Villas and temples 
alike have been destroyed ; the sea is now at a distance ; Ostia is but a small village, 
"one of the most picturesque though melancholy sites near Rome," but durino- the 

'I'll i- First Bridge on ///< .-I run. 


greater part of the present century careful excavations have been made, many 
valuable art treasures have been unearthed, and a considerable portion of the ancient 
city has been laid bare. Shops and dwellings, temples and baths, the theatre and 
the forum, with many a remnant of the ancient town, can now be examined, and 
numerous antiquities of smaller size are preserved in the museum at the old castle. 
This, with its strong bastions, its lofty circular tower and huge machicolations, 
is a very striking object as it rises above the plain " massive and grey against 
the sky-line." It has been drawn by artists not a few, from liaffaelle, who saw it 
when it had not very long been completed, down to the present time ; and " the tiny 
town, huddled into the narrow fortified space which forms as it were an outer bastion 
of the castle, contains the small semi-Gothic cathedral .... scarcely larger than 
a chapel, and seeming out of keeping with the historical recollections of so many 
mighty cardinal bishops." But, notwithstanding its present desolation, one mark of 
the ancient greatness of Ostia still survives. " It is somewhat startling to find that 
the second potentate of the West is not one of the great hierarchy of France, or 
Germany, or Spain, or England, but the Bishop of the deserted Ostia, because 
Ostia is the second see in the lioman States. It is he, with the Bishops of 
Portus and Sabina, who crowns and anoints the Pope. It is ho who is the Dean 
of the Sacred College." * 


* Stanley: "Christian Institutions," cli. xi. 

Main Street of Fiombino, 


.1 fountains of Calabria, from Sicily. 


the traveller who proposes to enter Sicily hy the favourite sea-route from 
Naples to Messina the approach to the island presents a scene of singular 
interest and beauty. A night's voyage from the sunny bay which sleeps at the 
foot of Vesuvius suffices to bring him almost within the shadow of Etna. By 
daybreak he has jnst passed the Punta del Faro, the lighthoused promontory 
at the extreme north-eastern angle of this three-cornered isle, the Trinacria of 
the ancients, and is steaming into the Straits. Far to his left he can see, with 
the eye of faith at any rate, the rock of Scylla jutting out from the Calabrian 
coast, while the whirlpool of Charybdis, he will do well to believe, is eddying 
and foaming at the foot of the Pharos a few hundred yards to his right. Here 
let him resolutely locate the fabled monster of the gaping jaws into which were 
swept those luckless mariners of old whose dread of Scylla drove them too near 
to the Sicilian shore. Modern geographers may maintain (as what will they not 
maintain?) that Charybdis should be identified with the Garofalo, the current which 
sweeps round the breakwater of Messina seven miles to the south; but Circe 
distinctly told Ulysses that the two monsters were not a "bowshot apart"; and 
the perfectly clear and straightforward account given of the matter by vEneas to 
Dido renders it impossible to doubt that Scylla and Charybdis faced each other 
at the mouth of the Straits. The traveller will be amply justified in believing 

KICILY. 195 

that lie has successfully negotiated the passage between these two terrors as soon 
as he has left the Pharos behind him and is speeding along the eastern coast 
of the island towards the city of Messina. 

Very hold and impressive grows the island scenery under the gradually 
broadening daylight. Tier on tier above him rise the bare, brown hill-slopes, 
spurs of the great mountain pyramid which he is approaching. These tumbled 
masses of the mountains, deepening here where the night shadow still lingers 
into downright black, and reddening there where they " take the morning " to 
the colour of rusty iron, proclaim their volcanic character, to all who are familiar 
with the signs thereof, unmistakably enough. Just such a ferruginous face does 
Nature turn towards you as you drop down at twilight past the Isleta of Las 
Palmas, in Gran Canaria, or work your way from the eastern to the western coast 
of TenerifTe, round the spreading skirts of the Peak. Kock scenery of another 
character is visible on the left, among the Calabriau mountains, dwarfed somewhat 
by the nearer as well as loftier heights of the island opposite, but bearing no 
mean part in the composition of the laud- and sea-scape, nevertheless. Mile after 
mile the view maintains its rugged beauty, and when at last the town and harbour 
of Messina rise in sight, and the fort of Castellaccio begins to fill the eye, to the 
exclusion of the natural ramparts of the hills, the traveller will be fain to admit 
that few islands in the world are approached through scenery so romantic and 
so well attuned to its historic associations. 

There are those who find Messina disappointing, and there is no doubt that 
to quit the waters of a rock-embosomed strait for the harbour of a large commercial 
seaport possessing no special claim to beauty of situation, is to experience a 
certain effect of disenchantment. It would not be fair, however, to hold the 
town, as a town, responsible for this. It is only some such jewel as Naples 
or as Algiers that could vie with such a setting. Messina is not an Algiers 
or a Naples ; it is only an honest, ancient, prosperous, active, fairly clean, 
and architecturally unimpressive town. The chief commercial centre of Sicily, 
with upwards of seventy thousand inhabitants, a Cathedral, an Archbishop, and a 
University, it can afford, its inhabitants perhaps believe, to dispense with aesthetic 
attractions. But its spacious quays, its fine and curiously shaped port, the 
Harbour of the Sickle as it was called by the ancients when after it they 
named the city " Zancle," have an interest of their own if they are without 
much claim to the picturesque ; and the view from the Faro Grande on the curve 
of the Sickle, with the Sicilian mountains behind, the Calabrian rocks in front, 
and the Straits to the right and left of the spectator, is not to be despised. 

Still, Messina is not likely to detain any pleasure-tourist long, especially with 
Taormina, the gem of the island, and one might almost say, indeed, of all Italy, 

1 '.)(> 

Till-: l'l< 7V/,'/-;.S7 < >r/v MEDITERRANEAN. 

awaiting him at only the distance of a railway journey of sonic 1 sixty to a hundred 
miles. The line from Messina to (liardini, the station for Taormina, and the spot 
whence (larihaldi crossed to Calabria in (lie autumn of 18GO, skirts the sea-coast, 
burrowing under headlands and spanning dry river-beds for a distance of thirty- 
miles, amid the scenery which lias been already viewed from the Straits, hut which 
loses now from its too close neighbourhood to the eye. The rock-built town of 
ancient Taormina is perched upon a steep and craggy bluff some four hundred 
feet above the railway line, and is approached by an extremely circuitous road of 
about three miles in length. Short cuts there are for the youthful, the impetuous, 
and the sound in wind ; but even these fortunate persons might do worse than 
save their breath and restrain their impatience to reach their destination, if only 
for the sake of the varying panorama which unfolds itself as they ascend from level 
to level on their winding way. There can be no denying that Taormina stands 
nobly and confronts the Straits with a simple dignity that many greater and 
even higher cities might well envy. To see it from a favouring angle of the 
battlemented road, with the southern sunlight bathing its bright white walls 
and broken lines of housetops, with the tower of Sant' Agostino traced against the 
cone of Etna, and the wall that skirts it almost trembling 011 the utmost verge of 
the cliff, while at the foot of the declivity the Straits trend southward in " tender, 
curving lines of creamy spray," to see this is at least to admit that some short 

I \ionu ina. 





Church of San? Agoslino, Taonnina. 

cuts are not worth taking, and that the bridle-path up the hillside might well be 
left to those animals for whose use it was constructed, and who are generally 
believed to prefer an abridgment of tlieir journey to any conceivable enhancement of 
its picturesque attractions. 

At Taonnina one may linger long. The pure, inspiriting air of its lofty plateau, and 
the unequalled beauty of the prospect which it commands, would alone be sufficient 
to stay the hurried footsteps of even the most time-pressed of " globe-trotters " ; 
but those who combine a love of scenery with a taste for archaeology and the 
classical antique will find it indeed a difficult place to leave. For, a little way above 
the town, and in the centre of an exquisite landscape, stand the magnificent ruins of 
the Greek Theatre, its auditorium, it is true, almost levelled with the plain, but 
more perfect as to the remains of its stage and proscenium than any other in 
Sicily, and, with one exception, in tbe world. But there is no need to be a scholar 
or an antiquarian to feel tbe extraordinary fascination of the spot. Nowhere among 
all the relics of bygone civilisations have Time and Nature dealt more piously with 
the work of man. Every spring and summer that have passed over those mouldering 
columns and shattered arches have left behind them their tribute of clasping creeper 
and clambering wild flower and softly draping moss. Boulder arid plinth in common, 
the masonry alike of Nature and of man, have mellowed into the same exquisite 

L98 THE i>i("rriii-:x( t )ri-: MEDITERRANEAN. 

liannony of greys and greens; and the eye seeks in v;iin to distinguish between the 
lutndiwork of the Great Mother and those monuments of her long-dead children 
which she lias clothed with au immortality of her own. 

Apart, however, from the indescribable charm of its immediate surroundings, the 
plateau of the theatre must fix itself in the memory of all who have entered Sicily 
by way of Messina as having afforded them their first " clear " view of Etna, their 
first opportunity, that is to say, of looking at the majestic mountain uniutercepted at 
any point of its outline or mass by objects on a lower level. The whole panorama 
indeed from this point is magnificent. To the left, in the foreground, rise the 
heights of Castiglioue from the valley of the Alcantara ; while, as the eye moves 
round the prospect from left to right, it lights in succession on the hermitage of 
S. Maria della Eocca, the Castle of Taormina, the overhanging hill of Mola, and 
Monte Venere towering above it. But, dominating the whole landscape, and 
irresistibly recalling to itself the gaze which wanders for a moment to the nearer 
chain of mountains or the blue Calabrian hills across the Strait, arises the 
never-to-be-forgotten pyramid of Etna, a mountain unrivalled in its combination 
of majesty and grace, in the soft symmetry of its " line," and the stern contrast 
between its lava-scarred sides, with their associations of throe and torture, and 
the eternal peace of its snow-crowned head. It will be seen at a closer view from 
Catania, and, best of all, on the journey from that place to Syracuse ; but the 
first good sight of it from Taormina, at any rate when weather and season have 
been favourable, is pretty sure to become an abiding memory. 

Twenty miles farther southwards along the coast lie the town and baths of 
Aci Eeale, a pleasant resort in the "cure" season, but to others than invalids 
more interesting in its associations with Theocritus and Ovid, with " Homer the 
Handel of Epos, and Handel the Homer of song ; " in a word, with Acis and 
Galatea, and Polyphemus, and the much-enduring Ulysses. Aci Castello, a couple 
of miles or so down the -coast, is, to be precise, the exact spot which is 
associated with these very old-world histories, though Polyphemus's sheep-run probably 
extended far along the coast in both directions, and the legend of the giant's 
defeat and discomfiture by the hero of the Odyssey is preserved in the nomenclature 
of the rocky chain which juts out at this point from the Sicilian shore. The Scogli 
dei Ciclopi are a fine group of basaltic rocks, the biggest of them some two hundred 
feet in height and two thousand feet in circumference, no doubt " the stone far greater 
than the first" with which Polyphemus took his shot at the retreating Wanderer, 
and which "all but struck the end of the rudder." It is a capital "half-brick" for a 
giant to " heave " at a stranger, whether the Cyclops did, in fact, heave it or not ; 
and, together with its six companions, it stands out bravely and with fine sculpturesque 
effect against the horizon. A few miles farther on is Catania, the second city in 

K ICILY. 199 

population and importance of Sicily, but, except for one advantage which would 
give distinction to the least interesting of places, by no means the second in respect 
of beauty. As a town, indeed, it is commonplace. Its bay, though of ample 
proportions, has no particular grace of contour ; and even the clustering masts in its 
busy harbour scarcely avail to break the monotony of that strip of houses on the flat 
seaboard, which, apart from its surroundings, is all that constitutes Catania. But 
with Etna brooding over it day and night, and the town lying outstretched and 
nestling between the two vast arms which the giant thrusts out towards the sea on 
each side, Catania could not look wholly prosaic and uninteresting even if she tried. 

We must again return to the mountain, and in a work on the " Picturesque 
Mediterranean " need plead no excuse for so doing. For Etna, it must be 
remembered, is a persistent feature, is the persistent feature of the landscape 
along nearly the whole eastern coast of Sicily from Panta di Faro to the Cape 
of Santa Croce, if not to the promontory of Syracuse. Its omnipresence becomes 
overawing as one hour of travel succeeds another and the great motmtain is as 
near as ever. For miles upon miles by this southward course it haunts the 
traveller like a reproving conscience. Each successive stage on his journey gives him 
only a different and not apparently more distant view. Its height, ten thousand feet, 
although, of course, considerable, seems hardly sufficient to account for this 
perpetual and unabating prominence, which, however, is partly to be explained by 
the outward trend taken by the sea-coast after we pass Catania, and becoming more 
and more marked during the journey from that city to Syracuse. There could be 
no better plan of operations for one who wishes to view the great mountain 
thoroughly, continuously, protractedly, and at its best, than to await a favourable 
afternoon, and then to take the journey in question by railway, so timing it as to 
reach the tongue of Santa Croce about sunset. From Catania to Lentini the 
traveller has Etna, wherever visible, on his right ; at Lentini the line of railway 
takes a sharp turn to the left, and, striking the coast at Agnone, hugs it all 
along the northern shore of the promontory, terminating with Cape Santa Croce, 
upon approaching which point it doubles back upon itself, to follow the " re-entering 
angle " of the cape, and then, once more turning to the left, runs nearly due 
southward along the coast to Syracuse. Throughout the twenty miles or so from 
Lentini to Augusta, beneath the promontory of Santa Croce, Etna lies on the 
traveller's left, with the broad blue bay fringed for part of the way by a mile-wide 
margin of gleaming sand between him and it. Then the great volcanic cone, all its 
twenty miles from summit to sea-coast foreshortened into nothingness by distance, 
seems to be rising from the very sea ; its long-cooled lava streams might almost be 
mingling with the very waters of the bay. As the rays of the westering sun strike 
from across the island upon silver-grey sand and blue-purple sea and russet-iron 


////; PICTURESQUE M EDIT !; in;. \ M:AN. 

mountain ^opcs, one's first impulse is to exclaim with Wordsworth, in vastly differing 
circumstances, that "earth hath not anything to show more fair." But it lias. 
For he who can prolong his view of the mountain until after the sun has actually 
sunk \\ill find that even the sight he has just witnessed can he surpassed. 
He must wait lor the moment when the silver has gone out of the sand, and 
the purple of the sea has changed to grey, and the russet of Etna's lava slopes is 

deepening into hlack ; 
for that is also the 
moment when the pink 
flush of the departed 
sunset catches its peak 
and closes the symphony 
of colour with a chord 
more exquisitely sweet 
than all. 

From Cape Santa 
Croce to Syracuse the 
route declines a little 
perhaps in interest. The 
great volcano which has 

filled the eye throughout 
the journey is now less 

favourably placed for the 
view, and sometimes, as 
when the railway skills 
the Bay of Megara in a 
due southward direction, 
is altogether out of sight. 
Nor does the approach 

to Syracuse quite prepare one for the pathetic charm of this most interesting of the 
great, dead, half-deserted cities of the ancient world, or even for the singular 
beauty of its surroundings. You have to enter the inhabited quarter itself, and to 
take up your abode on that mere sherd and fragment of old Greek Syracuse, the 
Island of Ortygia, to which the present town is confined (or rather, you have to 
begin by doing this, and then to sally forth on a long walk of exploration round 
the conform, to trace the line of the ancient fortifications, and to map out as best you 
may the four other quarters, each far larger than Ortygia, which, long since given 
over to orange-gardens and scattered villas and farmhouses, were once no doubt 
well-peopled districts of the ancient city), ere you begin either to discover its 

Entrance to Ma/a. 



Rocks of the Cyclops. 

elements of material beauty or to feel anything of its spiritual magic. It is hard to 
helieve that this decayed and apparently still decaying little island town was once the 
largest of the Hellenic cities, twenty miles, according to Straho, in circumference, 
and even in the time of Cicero containing in one of its now deserted quarters " a 
very large Forum, most beautiful porticoes, a highly decorated Town Hall, a most 
spacious Senate House, and a superb Temple of Jupiter Olympius." K spoiler more 
insatiable than Yerres has, alas ! carried off all these wonders of art and architecture, 
and of most of them not even a trace of the foundations remains. Of the magnificent 
Forum a single unfluted column appears to be the solitary relic. The porticoes, the 
Town Hall, the Senate House, the Temple of the Olympian Jove are irrecoverable even 
by the most active architectural imagination. But the west wall of the district which 
contained these treasures is still partially traceable, and in the adjoining quarter of 
the ancient city we find ourselves in its richest region both of the archaeological and 
the picturesque. 

For here is the famous Latomia del Paradiso, quarry, prison, guard-house, and 
burial-place of the Syracusan Greek, and the yet more famous Theatre, inferior to 
that of Taormina in the completeness of the stage and proscenium, but containing 
the most perfectly preserved auditorium in the world. The entrance to the Latomia, 
that gigantic, ear-shaped orifice hewn out of the limestone cliff, and leading into a 
vast whispering-chamber, the acoustic properties of which have caused it to be 



identilied with the (historic or legendary) Kar of Dionysius, has a strange, wild 
impressiveness of its own. JJut in beauty though not in grandeur it is excelled by 
another abandoned limestone <iiiiirry in the neighbourhood, \vhieh has been converted 
l,v its owner into an orangery. This lies midway between the Latomia del Paradise 
and the (Quarry of the Cappuccini, and is in truth a lovely retreat, Over it broods 
the perfect stillness that never seems so deep as in those deserted places which 
have once been haunts of busy life. It is rich in the spiritual charm of natural 
beauty and the sensuous luxury of sub-tropical culture : close at hand the green and 
gold of orange trees, in the middle distance the solemn plumes of the cypresses, and 
farther still the dazzling white walls of the limestone which the blue sky bends 
down to meet. 

To pass from the quarries to the remains of the Greek Theatre hard by is in 
some measure to exchange the delight of the eye for the subtler pleasures of mental 
association. Not that the concentric curves of these mouldering and moss-lined stone 
benches are without their appeal to the senses. On the contrary, they are 
beautiful in themselves, and, like all architectural ruins, than which no animate 
things in nature more perfectly illustrate the scientific doctrine of " adaptation to 
environment," they harmonise deliciously in line and tone with their natural 
surroundings. Yet to most people, and especially so to those of the contemplative 
habit, the Greek Theatre at Syracuse, like the Amphitheatres of Rome and Verona, 

will be most impressive at moments when the senses are least active and the 

imagination busiest. It is when we abstract the mind from the existing conditions of 

the ruin ; it is when we " restore " it by those processes of mental architecture which 
can never blunder into Vandalism ; it is when we re-people its silent, time-worn 
benches with the eager, thronging life of twenty centuries ago, that there is most 
of magic in its spell. And here surely imagination has not too arduous a task, 
so powerfully is it assisted by the wonderful completeness of these remains. More 
than forty tiers of seats shaped out of the natural limestone of the rock can still 
be quite distinctly traced ; and though their marble facings have of course long 
mouldered into dust, whole cunei of them are still practically as uninjured by time, 
still as fit for the use for which they were intended, as when the Syracusans of the 
great age of Attic Drama flocked hither to hear the tragedies of that poet whom 
they so deeply reverenced that to be able to recite his verse was an accomplishment 
rewarded in the prisoners who possessed it by liberation from bondage. To the lover 
of classical antiquity Syracuse will furnish "moments" in abundance ; but at no other 
spot either in Ortygia itself or in these suburbs of the modern city, not at the 
Fountain of Arethusa on the brink of the great port ; not in the Temple of Minerva, 
now the Cathedral, with its Doric columns embedded in the ignominy of plaster; not 
in that wildest and grandest of those ancient Syracusan quarries, the Latomia dei 

SICILY. 208 

Cappucciui, where the ill-fated remnant of the routed army of Nicias is supposed 
to have expiated in forced labour the failure of the Sicilian Expedition, will he find 
it so easy to rebuild the ruined past as here on this desolate plateau, with these 
perfect monuments of the immortal Attic stage around him, and at his feet the town, 
the harbour, the promontory of Plemmyriurn, the blue waters of the Ionian Sea. 

It is time, however, to resxnne our journey, and to make for that hardly less 
interesting or less beautifully situated town of Sicily which is usually the next 
halting-place of the traveller. The route to Girgenti from Syracuse is the most 
circuitous piece of railway communication in the island. To reach our destination 
it is necessary to retrace our steps almost the whole way back to Catania. At Bicocca, 
a few miles distant from that city, the line branches off into the interior of the 
country for a distance of some fifty or sixty miles, when it is once more deflected, 
and then descends in a south-westerly direction towards the coast. At a few miles 
from the sea, within easy reach of its harbour, Porto Empedocle, lies Girgenti. The 
day's journey will have been an interesting one. Throughout its westward course the 
line, after traversing the fertile Plain of Catania, the rich grain-bearing district which 
made Sicily the granary of the Koman world, ascends gradually into a mountainous 
region and plunges between Calascibetfca and Castrogiovanni into a tortuous ravine, 
above which rise towering the two last-named heights. The latter of the two is 
planted on the site of the plain of Enna, the scene of the earliest abduction 
recorded in history. Elowers no longer flourish in the same abundance on the 
meads from which Persephone was carried off by the Dark King of Hades ; but 
the spot is still fair and fertile, truly a "green navel of the isle," the central 
Omphalos from which the eye ranges northward, eastward, and south-westward over 
each expanse of Trinacria's triple sea. But those who do not care to arrest their 
journey for the sake of sacrificing to Demeter, or of enjoying the finest, in the 
sense of the most extensive, view in Sicily, may yet admire the noble situation 
of the rock-built town of Castrogiovauni looking down upon the railway from 
its beetling crag. 

Girgenti, the City of Temples, the richest of all places in the world save one 
in monuments of Pagan worship, conceals its character effectually enough from him 
who enters it from the north. AVithin the precincts of the existing city there is 
little sign to be seen of its archaeological treasures, and, to tell the truth, it has 
but few attractions of its own. Agrigentum, according to Pindar "the most beautiful 
city of mortals," will not so strike a modern beholder; but that, no doubt, is because, 
like Syracuse and other famous seats of ancient art and religious reverence, it has 
shrunk to dimensions so contracted as to leave all the riches of those stately 
edifices to which it owed the fame of its beauty far outside its present boundaries. 
Nothing, therefore, need detain the traveller in the town itself (unless, indeed, he 


Till-: I'K 'Tl -HKHQUE MEDITKIli:. I .\7. . I .V. 


would snatch ;i brief visit to the later-built cathedral, remarkable for nothing but the 
famous marble sarcophagus with its relief of the Myth of Hippolytus), and he will do 
well to mount the Kupe Atenea without delay. The view, however, in every direction 
is magnificent, the town to the right of the spectator and behind him, the sea in 
front, and the rolling, ruin-dotted plain between. From this point Girgenti itself 
looks imposing enough with the irregular masses of its roofs and towers silhouetted 
against the sky. But it is the seaward view which arrests and detains the eye. Hill 
summit or hotel window, it matters little what or where your point of observation is, 
you have but to look from the environs of (lirgenti towards Porto Empedocle, a few 
miles to the south, and you bring within yoiu field of vision a space of a few dozen 
acres in extent which one may reasonably suppose to have no counterpart in any area 
of like dimensions on the face of the globe. It is a garden of mouldering shrines, 
a positive orchard of shattered porticoes and broken column-shafts, and huge pillars 
prostrate at the foot of their enormous plinths. You can count and identify and 
name them all even from where you stand. Ceres and Proserpine, Juno Lacinia, 
Concord, Hercules, /Esculapius, Jupiter Olympius, Castor and Pollux, all are visible 
at once, all recognisable and numerable from east to w r est in their order as 
above. It is a land of ruined temples, and, to all appearance, of nothing else. 
One can just succeed, indeed, in tracing the coils of the railway as it winds like 
a black snake towards Porto Empedocle, but save that there are no signs of life. 
One descries no waggon upon the roads, no horse in the furrows, no labourer 
among the vines. Girgenti itself, with its hum and clatter, lies behind you; 
no glimpse of life or motion is visible on the quays of the port. All seems as 
desolate as those grey and mouldering fanes of the discrowned gods, a solitude 



which only changes in character without deepening in intensity as the eye travels 
across the foam-fringed coast-line out on the sailless sea. There is a strange 
beauty in this silent Pantheon of dead deities, this landscape which might almost 
seem to he still echoing the last wail of the dying Pan ; and it is a beauty of 
death and desolation to which the life of nature, here especially abounding, 
contributes not a little by contrast. For nowhere in Sicily is the country-side 
more lavishly enriched by the olive. Its contorted stem and quivering, silvery 
foliage are everywhere. Olives climb the hill-slopes in straggling files ; olives cluster 
in twos and threes and larger groups upon the level plain ; olives trace themselves 
against the broken walls of the temples, and one catches the flicker of their branches 
in the sunlight that streams through the roofless peristyles. From llupe Atenea 
out across the plain to where the eye lights upon the white loops of the road to 
Porto Empedocle one might almost say that every object which is not a temple 
or a fragment of a temple is an olive tree. 

By far the most interesting of the ruins from the archaeologist's point of view 
is that of the Temple of Concord, which, indeed, is one of the best-preserved in 
existence, thanks, curiously enough, to the religious Philistinism which in the 
Middle Ages converted it into a Christian church. It was .certainly not in the 
spirit of its tutelary goddess that it was so transformed : nothing, no doubt, was 
farther from the thoughts of those who thus appropriated the shrine of Concord than 
to illustrate the doctrine of the unity of religion. But art and archaeology, if not 

The Creek Theatre, Syracuse. 


romance, have good reason to thank them that they "took over'' the building on any 
grounds, for it is, of course, to this circumstance that we owe 'its perfect condition 
of preservation, and the fact that all the details of the Doric style as applied 
to religious architecture can he studied in this temple while so much of so many 
of its companion fanes has crumbled into indistinguishable ruin. Concordia has 
remained virtually intact through long centuries under the homely title of "the Church 
of St. Gregory of the Turnips," and it real's its stately facade before the spectator 
in consequence with architrave complete, a magnificent hexastyle of thirty-four 
columns, its lateral files of thirteen shafts apiece receding in noble lines of perspective. 
Juno Laciuia, or Juno Luciuda (for it may have been either as the " Lacinian 
Goddess " or as the Goddess of Childbed that Juno was worshipped here), an older 
fane than Concordia, though the style had not yet entered on its decline when the 
latter temple was built, is to be seen hard by, a majestic and touching ruin. It dates 
from the fifth century B.C., and is therefore Doric of the best period. Earthquakes, 
it seems, have co-operated with time in the work of destruction, and though twenty-five 
whole pillars are left standing, the facade, alas ! is represented only by a fragment of 
architrave. More extensive still have been the ravages inflicted on the Temple of 
Hercules by his one unconquerable foe. This great and famous shrine, much 
venerated of old by the Agrigentines, and containing that statue of the god which the 
indefatigable "collector" Verres vainly endeavoured to loot, is now little more than a 

heap of tumbled masonry, with one broken column-shaft alone still standing at one 

extremity of its site. But it is among the remains of the ancient sanctuary of Zeus, 

all unfinished though that edifice was left by its too ambitious designers, that we 
get the best idea of the stupendous scale on which those old-world religious architects 
and masons worked. The ruin itself has suffered cruelly from the hand of man ; so 
much so, indeed, that little more than the ground plan of the temple is to be traced 
by the lines of column bases, vast masses of its stone having been removed from its 
site to be used in the construction of the Mole. But enough remains to show the 
gigantic scale on which the work was planned and partially carried out. The pillars 
which once stood upon those bases were twenty feet in circumference, or more than 
two yards in diameter, and each of their flutings forms a niche big enough to contain 
a man ! Yon Caryatid, who has been carefully and skilfully pieced together from 
the fragments doubtless of many Caryatids, and who now lies, hands under head, 
supine and staring at the blue sky above him, is more than four times the average 
height of an English lifeguardsmau. From the crown of his bowed Lead to his stony 
soles he measures all twenty-five feet, and to watch a tourist sitting by or on him 
and gazing on Girgenti in the distance is to be visited by a touch of that feeling of 
the irony of human things to which Shelley gives expression in his " Ozymandias." 
The railway route from Girgenti to Palermo is less interesting than that from 

SICILY. 207 

Catania to Girgeuti. It runs pretty nearly due south and north across the island 
from shore to shore, through a country mountainous indeed, as is Sicily everywhere, 
but not marked by anything particularly striking in the way of highland scenery. 
At Termini we strike the northern coast, and the line branches off to the west. 
Another dozen miles or so brings us to Santa Flavia, whence it is but half an hour's 
walk to the ruins of Soluntum, situated on the easternmost hill of the promontory of 
Catalfano. The coast-view from this point is striking, and on a clear day the 
headland of Cefalu, some twenty miles away to the eastward, is plainly visible. Ten 
more miles of "westing" and we approach Palermo, the Sicilian capital, a city 
better entered from the sea, to which it owes its beauty as it does its name. 

To the traveller fresh from Girgenti and its venerable ruins, or from Syracuse with 
its classic charm, the first impressions of Palermo may very likely prove disappointing. 
Especially will they be so if he has come with a mind full of historic enthusiasm 
and a memory laden with the records of Greek colonisation, Saracen dominion, and 
Norman conquest, and expecting to find himself face to face with the relics and 
remainder of at any rate the modern period of the three. For Palermo is 
emphatically what the guide-books are accustomed to describe as "a handsome 
modern city"; which means, as most people familiar with the Latin countries are 
but too well aware, a city as like any number of other Continental cities, built and 
inhabited by Latin admirers and devotees of Parisian "civilisation," as "two peas in 
a pod." In the Sicilian capital the passion for the monotonous magnificence of the 
boulevard has been carried to an almost amusing pitch. Palermo may be regarded 
from this point of view as consisting of two most imposing boulevards of approximately 
eqiial length, each bisecting the city with scrupulous equality from east to west and 
from north to south, and intersecting each other in its exact centre at the 
mathematically precise angle of ninety degrees. You stand at the Porta Felice, the 
water-gate of the city, with your back to the sea, and before you, straight as a die, 
stretches the handsome Via Vittorio Emanuele for a mile or more ahead. You 
traverse the handsome Via Vittorio Emanuele for half its length and you come to 
the Quattro Canti, a small octagonal piazza, which boasts itself to be the very head 
of Palermo, and from this " Carfax," this intersection of four cross-roads, you see 
stretching to right and left of jo\i the equally handsome Via Macqueda. Walk down 
either of these two great thoroughfares, the Macqueda or the Vittorio Emanuele, and 
you will be equally satisfied with each ; the only thing which may possibly mar your 
satisfaction will be your consciousness that you would be equally satisfied with the 
other, and, indeed, that it requires an effort of memory to recollect in which of the 
two you are. There is nothing to complain of in the architecture or decoration 
of the houses. All is correct, regular, and symmetrical in line, bright and cheerful 
in colour, and, as a whole, absolutely wanting in individuality and charm. 

Jl ),s 


f E MED1TE1UL 1 M'.AN. 

It is, however, of course impossible to kill an ancient and interesting city altogether 
with boulevards. Palermo, like every other city, lias its "bits," to be found without, 
much difficulty by anyone who will quit the beaten track of the two great thoroughfares 
and go a-i|iit sting for them himself. lie may thus find enough here and there to 
remind him that he is living on the "silt" of three, nay, four civilisations, on a 
fourfold formation to which Greek and Koman, Saracen and Norman, have eacli 
contributed its successive layer. It need hardly be said that the latter has left the 
deepest traces of any. The Palazzo Reale, the first of the Palermitan sights to 
which the traveller is likely to bend his way, will afford the best illustration of 
this. Saracenic- in origin, it has received successive additions from half-a-dozen 



Norman princes, from Robert Guiscard downwards, and its chapel, the Cappella 
Palatina, built by lloger II. in the early part of the twelfth century, is a gem 
of decorative art which would alone justify a journey to Sicily to behold. The 
purely architectural beauties of the interior are impressive enough, but the eye loses 
all sense of them among the wealth of their decoration. The stately files of 
Norman arches up the nave would in any other building arrest the gaze of the 
spectator, but in the Cappella Palatina one can think of nothing but mosaics. 
Mosaics are everywhere, from western door to eastern window, and from northern 

, View in Girgenti. 

to southern transept wall. A full-length, life-sized saint in mosaic grandeur looks 
down upon you from every interval between the arches ' of the nave, and medallions 
of saints in mosaic, encircled with endless tracery and arabesque, form the inner 
face of every arch. Mosaic angels float with outstretched arms above the apse. 
A colossal Madonna and Bambino, overshadowed by a hovering Pere Eternel, peer 
dimly forth in mosaic across the altar through the darkness of the chancel. The 
ground is golden throughout, and the sombre richness of the effect is indescribable. 
In Palermo and its environs, in the Church of Martorana, and in the Cathedral 
of Monreale, no less than here, there is an abundance of that same decoration, 
and the mosaics of the latter of the two edifices above mentioned are held to be 
the finest of all ; but it is by those of the Cappella Palatina, the first that he 
is likely to make the acquaintance of, that the visitor, not being an expert or 



connuisseur iu this particular species of art-work, will perhaps be the most deeply 

The Palaxxo Eeale may doubtless too be remembered by him, as affording 
him the point of view from which lie has obtained his first idea of the unrivalled 
situation of Palermo. From the flat roof of the Observatory, fitted up in the 
tower of S. Ninfa, a noble panorama lies stretched around us. The spectator is 
standing midway between Amphitrite and the Golden Shell that she once cast in 
sport upon the shore. Behind him lies the Conca d'Oro, with the range of 
mountains against which it rests, Grifone and Cuccio, and the Billieni Hills, and 
the road to Monreale winding up the valley past La Eocca ; in front lies the 
noble curve of the gulf, from Cape Mongerbino to the port, the bold outlines of 
Monte Pellegrino, the Bay of Moudello still farther to the left, and Capo di 
Gallo completing the coast-line with its promontory dimly peering through the 
ha/e. Palermo, however, does not perhaps unveil the full beauty of its situation 
elsewhere than down at the sea's edge, with the city nestling in the curve behind 
one and Pellegrino rising across the waters in front. 

But the environs of the city, which are of peculiar interest and attraction, 
invite us, and first among these is Monreale, at a few miles' distance, a suburb 
to which the traveller ascends by a road commanding at every turn some new 
and striking prospect of the bay. On one hand, as he leaves the town, lies 
the Capuchin Monastery, attractive with its catacombs of mummified ex-citizens 
of Palermo to the lover of the gruesome rather than of the picturesque. 
Farther on is the pretty Villa Tasca, then La Eocca, whence by a winding 
road of very ancient construction we climb the royal mount crowned by the 
famous Cathedral and Benedictine Abbey of Monreale. Here more mosaics, as has 
been said, as fine in quality and in even greater abundance than those which 
decorate the interior of the Cappella Palatina ; they cover, it is said, an area 
of seventy thousand four hundred square feet. From the Cathedral we pass into 
the beautiful cloisters, and thence into the fragrant orange-garden, from which 
another delightful view of the valley towards Palermo is obtained. San Martino, 
the site of a suppressed Benedictine monastery, is the next spot of interest. A 
steep path branching off to the right from Monreale leads to a deserted fort, 
named II Castellaccio, from which the road descends as far as S. Martino, 
whence a pleasant journey back to Palermo is made through the picturesque 
valley of Bocca di Falco. 

The desire to climb a beautiful mountain is as strong as if climbing it were 
not as effectual a way of hiding its beauties as it would be to sit upon its 
picture; and Monte Pellegrino, sleeping in the sunshine, and displaying the noble 
lines of what must surely be one of the most picturesque mountains in the 

SICILY. 211 

world, is likely enough to lure the traveller to its summit. That mass 1 of grey 
limestone, which takes such an exquisite flush under the red rays of the evening, 
is not difficult to climh. The zigzag path which mounts its sides is plainly 
visible from the town, and though steep at first, it grows gradually easier of 
ascent on the upper slopes of the mountain. Pellegrino was originally an island, 
and is still separated by the plain of the Conca d'Oro from the other mountains 
near the coast. Down to a few centuries ago it was clothed with underwood, 
and in much earlier times it grew corn for the soldiers of Hamilcar Barca, who 
occupied it in the first Punic War. Under an overhanging rock on its summit 
is the Grotto of Sta. Eosalia, the patron saint of the city, the maiden whom 
tradition records to have made this her pious retreat several centuries ago, and 
the discovery of whose remains in 1064 had the effect of instantaneously staying 
the ravages of the plague by which Palermo was just then being desolated. The 
grotto has since been converted, as under the circumstances was only fitting, into 
a church, to which many pilgrimages are undertaken by the devout. A steep 
path beyond the chapel leads to the survey station on the mountain top, from 
which a far-stretching view is commanded. The cone of Etna, over eighty miles off 
as the crow flies, can be seen from here, and still farther to the north, among the 
Liparaan group, the everlasting furnaces of Stromboli and Vulcano. There is a steeper 
descent of the mountain towards the south-west, and either by this or by retracing 
our original route we regain the road, which skirts the base of the mountain on the 
west, and, at four miles' distance from the gate of the town, conducts to one of 
the most charmingly situated retreats that monarch ever constructed for himself, 
the royal villa-chateau of La Favorita, erected by Ferdinand IV. (Ferdinand I. of the 
Two Sicilies), otherwise not the least uncomfortable of the series of uncomfortable 
princes whom the Bourbons gave to the South Italian peoples. 

Great as are the attractions of Palermo, they will hardly avail to detain the visitor 
during the rest of his stay in Sicily. For him who wishes to see Trinacria 
thoroughly, and who has already made the acquaintance of Messina and Syracuse, 
of Catania and Girgenti, the capital forms the most convenient of head-quarters 
from which to visit whatever places of interest remain to be seen in the western 
and south-western corner of the island. For it is hence that, in the natural order 
of things, he would start for Marsala (famous as the landing-place of " the 
Thousand," under Garibaldi, in 1860, and the commencement of that memorable 
march which ended in a few weeks in the overthrow of the Bourbon rule) and 
Trapani (from drepanon), another sickle-shaped town, dear to the Virgilian student 
as the site of the games instituted by Jjlneas to the memory of the aged 
Anchises, who died at Eryx, a poetically appropriate spot for a lover of Aphrodite 
to end his days in. The town of the goddess on the top of Monte San Giuliano, 



Mi-:i)rTi<;iiiiA NEAN. 

the ancient Kryx, is fast sinking to decay. 1 Vgenerate descendants, or successors 
would perhaps lx> more correct, of her ancient worshippers prefer the plain at its 
foot, and year by year migrations take place thither which threaten to number 
this immemorial settlement of pagan antiquity among the dead cities of the past, 
and to leave its grass-grown streets and mouldering cathedral alone with the sea 
and sky. There are no remains of the world-famed shrine of Venus Erycina now 
save a few traces of its foundation and an ancient reservoir, once a fountain 
dedicated to the goddess. One need not linger on San Giuliano longer than is 

Mount Etna, and Greek Theatre, Taormina. 

needful to survey the mighty maritime panorama which surrounds the spectator, 
and to note Cape Bon in Africa rising faintly out of the southward haze. 

For Selimmto has to be seen, and Segesta, famous both for the grandeur 
and interest of their Greek remains. From Castelvetrano station, on the return 
route, it is but a short eight miles to the ruins of Selinus, the westernmost of 
the Hellenic settlements of Sicily, a city with a history of little more than two 
centuries of active life, and of upwards of two thousand years of desolation. 
I'amiinliis of Megara founded it, so says legend, in the seventh century B.C. In 
the fifth century of that era the Carthaginians destroyed it. Ever since that day it 
IKIS remained deserted except as a hiding-place for the early Christians in the days of 
their persecution, and as a stronghold of the Mohammedans in their resistance to King 
Yet in its short life of some two hundred and twenty years it became, for 

. 2 \[ Till: I'K'TI'lfl'SQUE MKDITKliliANKAN. 

some unknown reason of popular sanctity, the site of no fewer than seven temples, 
four of them among tlie largo! ever known to have existed. Most of them survive, 
it is triu-, only in the condition of prostrate fragments, for it is supposed that 
earthquake and not time has been their worst foe, and the largest of them, dedicated 
to Hercules, or, as some hold, to Apollo, was undoubtedly never finished at all. Its 
length, including steps, reaches the extraordinary figure of three hundred and 

Mty-one feet, or more than a hundred and twenty-one yards; its width, including 
steps, is a hundred and seventy-seven feet; while its columns would have soared 
when completed to the stupendous height of fifty-three feet. It dates from the fifth 
century B.C., and it was probably the appearance of the swarthy Carthaginian 
invaders which interrupted the masons at their work. It now lies a colossal 
heap of mighty, prostrate, broken columns, their fiutings worn nearly smooth by 
time and weather, and of plinths shaped and rounded by the same agencies into 
the similitude of gigantic mountain boulders. 

It is, however, the temples of Selinunto rather than their surroundings 
which command admiration, and in this respect they stand in marked contrast 
to that site of a single unnamed ruin, which is, perhaps, taking site and ruin 
together, the most "pathetic " piece of the picturesque in all Sicily, the hill and 
temple of Segesta. From Calatafimi, scene of one of the Garibaldian battles, to 
Segesta the way lies along the Castellamare road, and through a beautiful and 

well- watered valley. The site of the town itself is the first to be reached. 


Monte Barbaro, with the ruins of the theatre, lies to the north, to the west the 
hill whereon stands the famous Temple. No one needs a knowledge of Greek 
archaeology or Greek history, or even a special love for Greek art, in order to 
be deeply moved by the spectacle which the spot presents. He needs no more 
than the capacity of Virgil's hero to be touched by " the sense of tears in mortal 
things." The Temple itself is perfect, except that its columns are still initiated ; 
bat it is not the simple and "majestic outline of the building, its lines of lessening 
columns, or its massive architraves upborne upon those mighty shafts, which most 
impress us, but the harmony between this great work of man and its natural 
surroundings. In this mountain solitude, and before this deserted shrine of an 
extinct worship, we are in presence of the union of two desolations, and one had 
well-nigh said of two eternities, the everlasting hills and the imperishable yearnings 
Of the human heart. No words can do justice to the lonely grandeur of the Temple 
of Segesta. It is unlike any other in Sicily in this matter of unique position. It 
has no rival temple near it, nor are there even the remains of any other building, 
temple .or what not, to challenge comparison, within sight of the spectator. This 
ruin stands alone in every sense, alone in point of physical isolation, alone in the 
a ust (.-re pathos which that position imparts to it. 

UICILY. 215 

In the Museum of Palermo, to which city the explorer of these ruined sanctuaries 
of art and religion may now be supposed to have returned, the interesting 
metopes of Selinus will recall the recollection of that greater museum of ruins 
which he just visited at Selinunto ; hut the suppressed monastery, which has 
heen now turned into a Museo Nazionale, has not much else besides its Hellenic 
architectural fragments to detain him. And it may be presumed, perhaps, that 
the pursuit of antiquities, which may be hunted with so much greater success in 
other parts of the island, is not precisely the object which leads most visitors 
to Sicily to prolong their stay in this beautifully seated city. Its attraction lies, 
in effect and almost wholly, in the characteristic noted in the phrase just used. 
Architecturally speaking, Palermo is naught : it is branded, as has been already 
said, with the banality and want of distinction of all modern Italian cities of the 
second class. And, moreover, all that man has ever done for her external adornment 
she can show you in a few hours ; but days and weeks would not more than 
suffice for the full appreciation of all she owes to nature. Antiquities she has 
none, or next to none, unless, indeed, we are prepared to include relics of the 
comparatively modern Norman domination, which of course abound in her beautiful 
mosaics, in that category. The silt of successive ages, and the detritus of a life 
which from the earliest times has been a busy one, have irrecoverably buried 
almost all vestiges of her classic past. Her true, her only, but her all-sufficient 
attraction is conveyed in her ancient name. She is indeed " Panormus " ; it is as 
the "all harbour city" that she fills the eye and mind and lingers in the 
memory and lives anew in the imagination. When the city itself and its environs 
as far as Monreale and San Martino and La Zisa have been thoroughly explored ; 
when the imposing Porta Felice has been duly admired ; when the beautiful 
gardens of La Flora, with its wealth of sub-tropical vegetation, has been sufficiently 
promenaded on ; when La Gala, a quaint little narrow, shallow harbour, and the 
busy life on its quays have been adequately studied ; then he who loves nature 
better than the works of man, and prefers the true eternal to the merely 
figurative " immortal," will confess to himself that Palermo has nothing fairer, 
nothing more captivating, to show than that chef-d'ixiivre which the Supreme 
Artificer executed in shaping those noble lines of rock in which Pellegrino descends 
to the city at its foot, and in tracing that curve of coast-line upon which the 
city has sprung up imder the mountain's shadow. The view of this guardian and 
patron height, this tutelary rock, as one might almost fancy it, of the Sicilian 
capital is from all points and at all hours beautiful. It dominates the city and 
the sea alike from whatever point one contemplates it, and the bold yet soft 
beauty of its contours has in every aspect a never-failing charm. The merest 
lounger, the most frivolous of promenaders in Palermo, should congratulate himself 



Palermo Harbour. 

on having always before his eyes a mountain the mere sight of which may he 
almost described as a " liberal education " in poetry and art. He should haunt the 
Piazza Marina, however, not merely at the promenading time of day, but then 


also, nay, then most of all, when the throng has begun to thin, and, as Homer 
puts it, " all the ways are shadowed," at the hour of sunset. For then the 
clear Mediterranean air is at its clearest, the fringing foam at its whitest, the 
rich, warm background of the Conca d'Oro at its mellowest, while the bare, 
volcanic-looking sides of Monte Pellegrino seem fusing into ruddy molten metal 
beneath the slanting rays. Gradually, as you watch the colour die out of it, 
almost as it dies out of a snow-peak at the fading of the Alpen-gluth, the shadows 
begin to creep up the mountain-sides, forerunners of the night which has already 
fallen upon the streets of the city, and through which its lights are beginning to 
peer. A little longer, and the body of the mountain will be a dark, vague mass, 
with only its cone and graceful upper ridges traced faintly against pale depths of sky. 
Thus and at such an hour may one see the city, bay, and mountain at what 
may be called their {esthetic or artistic best. But they charm, and with a magic 
of almost equal potency, at all hours. The fascination remains unabated to the end, 
and never, perhaps, is it more keenly felt by the traveller than when Palermo is 
smiling her God-speed upon the parting guest, and from the deck of the steamer 
which is to bear him homeward he waves his last farewell to the receding city lying 
couched, the loveliest of Ocean's Nereids, in her shell of gold. 



If his hour of departure be in the evening, when the rays of the westering sun 
strike athwart the base of Pellegrino, and tip with fire the summits of the low-lying 
houses of the seaport, and stream over and past them upon the glowing waters of the 
harbour, the sight is one which will not be soon forgotten. Dimmer and dimmer 
grows the beautiful city with the increasing distance and the gathering twilight. The 
warm rose-tints of the noble mountain cool down into purple, and darken at 
last into a heavy mass of sombre shadows ; the sea changes to that spectral silver 
which overspreads it in the gloaming. It is a race between the flying steamer and 

Cape Solunta. 

the falling night to hide the swiftly 
fading coast-line altogether from the 
view ; and so close is the contest that 
up to the last it leaves us doubtful 
whether it be darkness or distance that 
has taken it from us. But in a few 
more minutes, be it from one cause 
or from the other, the effacement is complete. Behind us, where Palermo lay 
a while ago, there looms only a bank of ever-darkening haze, and before the bows 
of our vessel the grey expanse of Mediterranean waters which lie between us and 
the Bay of Naples. 



Torre dell'Annunziata. 


"VTAPLES in itself, apart from its surroundings, is not of surpassing beauty. 
Its claim to be " the most beautiful city in Europe " rests solely on the 
adventitious aid of situation. When the fictitious charm which distance gives is lost 
by a near approach, it will be seen that the city which has inspired the poets of all 
ages is little more than a huge, bustling, commonplace commercial port, not to be 
compared for a moment, aesthetically speaking, with Genoa, Florence, Venice, or 
many other Italian towns equally well known to the traveller. This inherent lack 
is, however, more than compensated for by the unrivalled natural beauties of its 
position, and of its charming environs. No town in Europe, not Palermo with its 
"Golden Shell," Constantinople with its "Golden Horn," nor Genoa, the "Gem of 
the Kiviera," can boast of so magnificent a situation. The traveller who approaches 
Naples by sea may well be excused for any exuberance of language. As the ship 
enters the Gulf, passing between the beautiful isles of Ischia and Capri, which 
seem placed like twin outposts to guard the entrance of this watery paradise, the 
scene is one which will not soon fade from the memory. All around stretches 
the bay in its azure immensity, its sweeping curves bounded on the right by the 
rocky Sorrentiue promontory, with Sorrento, Meta, and a cluster of little fishing villages 
nestling in the olive-clad precipices, half hidden by orange groves and vineyards, 

NAPLES. 219 

and the majestic form of Monte Angelo towering above. Farther along the coast, 
Vesuvius, the tutelary genius of the scene, arrests the eye, its vine-clad lower 
slopes presenting a startling contrast to the dark cone of the volcano belching 
out fire and smoke, a terrible earnest of the hidden powers within. On the left the 
graceful undulations of the Camaldoli hills descend to the beautifully indented bay 
of Pozzuoli, which looks like a miniature replica of the parent gulf with the volcano 
of Monte Nuovo for its Vesuvius. Then straight before the spectator lies a white 
mass like a marble quarry ; this, with a white projecting line losing itself in the 
graceful curve of Vesuvius, resolves itself, as the steamer draws nearer, into Naples 
and its suburbs of Portici and Torre del Greco. Beyond, in the far background, 
the view is shut in by a phantom range of snowy peaks, an offshoot of the 
Abruzzi Moiintains, faintly discerned in the purple haze of the horizon. All these 
varied prospects unite to form a panorama which, for beauty and extent, is hardly 
to be matched in Europe. 

This bald and inadequate description may perhaps serve to explain one reason for 
the pre-eminence among the many beautiful views in the South of Europe popularly 
allowed to the Bay of Naples. One must attribute the esthetic attraction of the Bay 
a good deal to the variety of beautiful and striking objects comprised in the view. 
Here we have not merely a magnificent bay with noble, sweeping curves (the deeply 
indented coasts of the Mediterranean boast many more extensive), but in addition we have 
in this comparatively circumscribed area an unequalled combination of sea, mountain, 
and island scenery. In short, the Gulf of Naples, with its islands, capes, bays, straits, 
and peninsulas, is an epitome of the principal physical features of the globe, and 
might well serve as an object lesson for a child making its first essay at geography. 
Then, too, human interest is not lacking. The mighty city of Naples, like a huge 
octopus, stretches out its feelers right and left, forming the straggling towns and 
villages which lie along the eastern and western shores of the bay. A more 
plausible, if prosaic, reason for the popularity of the Bay of Naples may, however, be 
found in its familiarity. Naples and Vesuvius are as well known to us in prints, 
photographs, or engravings as St. Paul's Cathedral or the Houses of Parliament. 
If other famous bays, Palermo or Corinth, for instance, were equally well known, 
that of Naples would have many rivals in popular estimation. 

The traveller feels landing a terrible anticlimax. The noble prospect of the 
city and the bay ha,s raised his expectations to the highest pitch, and the 
disenchantment is all the greater. The sordid surroundings of the port, the worst 
quarter of the city, the squalor and filth of the streets, preceded by the inevitable 
warfare with the rapacious rabble of yelling boatmen, porters, and cab-drivers, make 
the disillusionised visitor inclined to place a sinister interpretation on the equivocal 
maxim, Vedi Napoli e j>oi mori ; and Goethe's aphorism, that a man can never 

li-JI ) 


r( i; i-: S v ' / 

be utterly miserable who retains the recollection of Naples, seems to him the 
hollowest mockery and the cruellest irony. 

The streets of Naples are singularly lacking iu architectural interest. Not 
only are there few historic buildings or monuments, which is curious when we 
consider the important part Naples played in the medieval history of the South of 
Kurope, hut there are not many handsome modern houses or palaces of any 

pretension. Not that Naples is 
wanting in interest. The conven- 
tional sight-seer, who calls a place 
interesting in proportion to the 
number of pages devoted to its 
principal attractions in the guide- 
books, may, perhaps, contemptu- 
ously dismiss this great city as a 
place which can be sufficiently 
well "done" in a couple of days; 
but to the student of human 
nature Naples offers a splendid 
field in its varied and character- 
istic scenes of street life. To 
those who look below the surface, 


this vast hive of humanity, in 
which Italian life can be studied 
in all its varied phases and as- 
pects, cannot be wholly common- 

It is a truism that the life 
of Naples must be seen in the 
streets. The street is the Nea- 
politan's bedroom, dining-room, dressing-room, club, and recreation ground. The 
custom of making the streets the home is not confined to the men. The fair sex are 
fond of performing al fresco toilettes, and may frequently be seen mutually assisting 
each other in the dressing of their magnificent hair in full view of the passers-by. 

As in Oriental cities, certain trades are usually confined to certain streets or alleys 
in the poorer quarters of the town. The names at street corners show that this 
custom is a long-established one. There are streets solely for cutlers, working 
jewellers, second-hand bookstalls, and old clothes shops (a counterpart of our Petticoat 
Lane), to name a few of the staple trades. The most curious of these trading-streets 
is one not far from the Cathedral, confined to the sale of religious wares; shrines, 

Street in A via! ft. 



tawdry images, cheap crucifixes, crosses, and rosaries make up the contents of these 
ecclesiastical marine stores. This distinctive local character of the various arts and 
crafts is now best exemplified in the Piax/a degli Orefici. This square and the 
adjoining streets are confined to silversmiths and jewellers, and here the characteristic 
ornaments of the South Italian peasant women can still he bought, though they tire 
beginning to be replaced by the cheap, machine-made abominations of Birmingham. 
Apart from the thronging crowds surging up and down, these narrow streets and 
alleys are full of dramatic interest. The curious characteristic habits and customs 
of the people may best be studied in the poor quarters round the Cathedral. He 
who would watch this shifting and ever-changing human kaleidoscope must not, 
however, expect to do it while strolling leisurely along. This would be as futile 
as attempting to stem the ebb and flow of the street currents, for the streets 
are narrow and the traffic abundant. A doorway will be found a convenient 
harbour of refuge from the long strings of heavily laden mules and donkeys 
which largely replace vehicular traffic. A common and highly picturesque object 
is the huge charcoal-burner's waggon, drawn usually by three horses abreast. The 
richly decorated pad of the harness is very noticeable, with its brilliant array of 
gaudy brass flags and the shining repousse plates, with figures of the Madonna and 
the saints, which, together with the Pagan symbols of horns and crescents, are 
supposed to protect the horses from harm. Unfortunately these talismans do not 

seem able to protect them from the brutality of their masters. The Neapolitan's 


cruelty to animals is proverbial. This characteristic is especially noticeable on 
Festas and Sundays. A Neapolitan driver apparently considers the seating capacity 
of a vehicle and the carrying power of a horse to be limited only by the number of 
passengers who can contrive to hang on, and with anything less than a dozen 
perched on the body of the cart, two or three in the net, and a couple on the 
shafts, he will think himself weakly indulgent to his steed. It is on the Castellamare 
Eoad on a Festa that the" visitor will best realise the astonishing elasticity of a 
Neapolitan's notions as to the powers of a beast of burden. A small pony will 
often be seen doing its best to drag uphill a load of twelve or fifteen hulking 
adults, incited to its utmost efforts by physical suasion in the form of sticks and 
whips, and moral suasion in the shape of shrill yells and oaths. Their diabolical 
din seems to give some colour to the saying that " Naples is a paradise inhabited 
by devils." 

The nl fresco restaurants of the streets are curious and instructive. That huge 
jar of oil simmering on a charcoal fire denotes a fried-fish stall, where fish and 
"oil-cakes" are retailed at one sou a portion. These stalls are much patronised by 
the very poor, with whom macaroni is an almost unattainable luxury. At street 
corners a snail-soup stall may often be seen, conspicuous by its polished copper pot. 

NAPLES. 223 

The poor consider snails a great delicacy; and iu this they are only following ancient 
customs, for even in Roman times snails were in demand, if we may judge from the 
number of snail-shells found among the Pompeii excavations. A picturesque feature 
are the herds of goats. These ambulating dairies stream through the town in the 
early morning. The intelligent beasts know their customers, and each nock has 
its regular beat, which it takes of its own accord. Sometimes the goats are milked 
in the streets, the pail being let down from the upper flats of the houses by a 
string, a pristine type of ascenseur. Generally, though, the animal mounts the 
stairs to be milked, and descends again in the most matter-of-fact manner. 

The gaudily painted stalls of the iced-water and lemonade dealers give warmth 
of colour to the streets. There are several grades in the calling of acquaiolo 
(water-seller). The lowest member of the craft is the peripatetic acquaiolo, who 
goes about furnished simply with a barrel of iced water strapped on his back, and a 
basket of lemons slung to his waist, and dispenses drinks at two centesimi a 
tumbler. It was thought that the completion of the Serino aqueduct, which 
provides the whole of Naples with excellent water at the numerous public fountains, 
would do away with the time-honoured water-seller ; but it seems that the poorer 
classes cannot do without a flavouring of some sort, and so this humble fraternity 
continue as a picturesque adjunct of the streets. These are only a few of the 
more striking objects of interest which the observer will not fail to notice in his 
walks through the city. But we must leave this fascinating occupation and turn 
to some of the regulation sights of Naples. Those interested in Neapolitan street 
life will find particularly graphic and accurate studies of Naples life in Mr. Neville 
Rolfe's " Naples in 1888." 

Though, in proportion to its size, Naples contains fewer sights and specific 
objects of interest than any other city in Italy, there are still a few public buildings 
and churches which the tourist should not neglect. There are quite half-a-dozen 
churches out of the twenty-five or thirty noticed by the guide-books which fully 
repay the trouble of visiting them. The Cathedral is not at present seen to advantage, 
as it is under repair. Its chief interest lies in the gorgeous Chapel of St. Januarius, 
the patron saint of Naples. In a silver shrine under the richly decorated altar is 
the famous phial containing the coagulated blood of the saint. This chapel was 
built at the beginning of the seventeenth century, in fulfilment of a vow by the 
grateful populace in honour of the saint who had saved their city " from the fire 
of Vesuvius by the intercession of his precious blood." St. Januarius is held in 
the highest veneration by the lower classes of Naples, with whom the liquefaction 
ceremony, which takes place twice a year, is an article of faith in which they place 
the most implicit reliance. The history of the holy man is too well known to need 
repetition here. The numerous miracles attributed to him and the legends which have 














grown round his name, would make no inconsiderable addition to the hagiological 
literature of Italy. 

Of the other churches, Sta. Chiara, S. Domenico Maggiore, and S. Lorenzo are 
best worth visiting. In building Sta. Chiara the architect would seem to have 
aimed at embodying, as far as possible, the idea of the church militant, the exterior 
resembling a fortress 
rather than a place 
of worship. In ac- 
cordance with the 
notions of church re- 
storation which pre- 
vailed in the last 
century, Giotto's fa- 
mous frescoes have 
been covered with a 
thick coating of 
whitewash, the sa- 
pient official who was 
responsible for the 
restoration consider- 
ing these paintings 

too dark and gloomy for mural decoration. 
Now the most noteworthy objects in the church 

are the Gothic tombs of the Angevin kings. 


The two churches of S. Domenico and 
S. Lorenzo are not far off, and the sightseer 

in this city of "magnificent distances" is grateful to the providence which 
has placed the three most interesting churches in Naples within a comparatively 
circumscribed area. S. Domenico should be visited next, as it contains some of the 
best examples of Renaissance sculpture in Naples, as Sta. Chiara does of Gothic art. 
It was much altered and repaired in the course of the sixteenth and seventeenth 
centuries, but still remains one of the handsomest of the Neapolitan churches. Its 
most important monument is the marble group in relief of the Virgin, with SS. 
Matthew and John, by Giovanni da Nola, which is considered to be the sculptor's 
best work. The Gothic church of S. Lorenzo has fortunately escaped in part the 
disfiguring hands of the seventeenth century restorer. This church is of some literary 
and historical interest, Petrarch having spent several months in the adjoining 
monastery; and it was here that Boccaccio saw the beautiful princess immortalised 
in his tales by the name of Fiammetta. 


The Hermitage, Capri. 


In order to appreciate the true historical and geographical significance of Naples, 
\ve must reinemher that the whole of this volcanic district is one great palimpsest, 
and that it is only with the uppermost aud least important inscription that we have 
hitherto concerned ourselves. To form nn adequate idea of this unique country we 
must set ourselves to decipher the earlier-written inscriptions. For this purpose we 
must visit the National Museum, which contains rich and unique collections of 
antiquities elsewhere absolutely unrepresented. Here will he found the best treasures 
from the buried towns of Cumse, Herculaneum, and Pompeii. The history of nearly 
a thousand years may be read in this vast necropolis of ancient art. 

To many, however, the living present has a deeper interest than the buried 
past, and to these the innumerable beautiful excursions round Naples will prove 
more attractive than all the wealth of antiquities in the Museum. Certainly, from a 
purely a>sthetic standpoint, all the best things in Naples are out of it, if the bull 
may be allowed. To reach Pozzuoli and the classic district of BaiaB and Cumae, 
we pass along the fine promenade of the Villa Nazionale (Naples' Hyde Park), which 
stretches from the Castello dell' Ovo (the Bastille of Naples) to the Posilipo 
promontory, commanding, from end to end, superb unobstructed views of the Bay. 
Capri, the central point of the prospect, appears to change its form from day to day, 
like a fairy island. Sometimes, on a cloudless day, the fantastic outlines of the cliffs 
stand out clearly defined against the blue sea and the still bluer background of the 
sky; the houses are plainly distinguished, and you can almost fancy that you can 
descry the groups of idlers leaning over the parapet of the little piazza, so clear is 
the atmosphere. Sometimes the island is bathed in a bluish haze, and by a curious 
atmospheric effect a novel form of Fata Morgana is seen, the island appearing to 
be lifted out of the water and suspended between sea and sky. 

The grounds of the Villa Nazionale are extensive, and laid out with taste, but 
are disfigured by inferior plaster copies, colossal in size, of famous antique statues. It 
is strange that Naples, while possessing some of the greatest masterpieces of ancient 
sculptors, should be satisfied with these plastic monstrosities for the adornment 
of its most fashionable promenade. The most interesting feature of the Villa 
Naxionale is the Aquarium. It is not merely a show place, but an international 
biological station, and, in fact, the portion open to the public consists only of the 
spare tanks of the laboratory. This institution is the most important of its kind 
in Europe, and is supported by the principal European Universities, who each pay for 
so many "tables." England is at present represented by two marine biologists. 

At the entrance to the tunnelled highway known as the Grotto di Posilipo, 
which burrows through the promontory that forms the western bulwark of Naples, and 
serves as !t barrier to shut out the noise of that overgrown city, is a columbarium 
known as Virgil's Tomb. The guide-books, with their superior erudition, speak 

NAPLES. 227 

rather contemptuously of this historic spot as the "so-called tomb of Virgil." Yet 
historical evidence seems to point to the truth of the tradition which has assigned 
this spot as the place where Virgil's ashes were once placed. A visit to this tomh 
is a suitable introduction to the neighbourhood of which Virgil seems to be the 
tutelary genius. Along the sunny slopes of Posilipo the poet doubtless occasionally 
wended his way to the villa of Lucullus, at the extreme end of the peninsula. 
Leaving the gloomy grotto, the short cut to Pozzuoli, on our right, we begin to 
mount the far-famed " Corniche " of Posilipo, .which skirts the cliffs of the 
promontory. The road at first passes the fashionable Mergellina suburb, fringed by 
an almost uninterrupted series of villa gardens. This is, perhaps, one of the most 
beautiful drives in the South of Europe. Every winding discloses views which are 
at once the despair and the delight of the painter. At every turn we are tempted 
to stop and feast the eyes on the glorious prospect. Perhaps of all the fine views 
in and around Naples, that from the Capo di Posilipo is the most striking, and 
dwells longest in the memory. At one's feet lies Naples, its whitewashed houses 
glittering bright in the flood of sunshine. Beyond, across the deep blue waters of 
the gulf, Vesuvius, the evil genius of this smiling country, arrests the eye, from 
whose summit, like a halo, 

" A wreath of light blue vapour, pure and rare, 

Mounts, scarcely seen against the deep blue sky 

It forms, dissolving there, 
The dome, as of a palace, hung on high 
Over the mountains." 

Portici, Torre del Greco, and Torre dell' Annunziata can hardly be distinguished 
in this densely populated fringe of coast-line, which extends from Naples to 
Castellamare. Sometimes at sunset we have a magnificent effect. This sea-wall 
of continuous towns and villages lights up under the dying rays of the sun like 
glowing charcoal. The conflagration appears to spread to Naples, and the huge city 
is "lit up like Sodom, as if fired by some superhuman agency." This atmospheric 
phenomenon may remind the imaginative spectator of the dread possibilities afforded 
by the proximity of the ever-threatening volcano towering in terrorem over the 
thickly populated plain. There is a certain weird charm, born of impending danger, 
which gives the whole district a pre-eminence in the world of imagination. It has 
passed through its baptism of fire; and who knows how soon "the dim things 
below " may be preparing a similar fate for a city so rashly situated ? These dismal 
reflections are, however, out of place on the peaceful slopes of Posilipo, whose very 
name denotes freedom from care (TTBVO-K rij? XVTT???). 

The shores of this promontory are thickly strewed with Eoman ruins, which 
are seldom explored owing to their comparative inaccessibility. Most of the 



Capri, from Naples. 

remains, theatres, temples, 
porticoes, and otlier buildings, 

whose use or nature defies the 

learning of the antiquary, are 

thought to he connected with the 

extensive villa of the notorious 

epicure Vedius Polio. Traces of 

the fish-tanks for the eels, which 

Seneca tells us were fed with the flesh of disobedient slaves, are still visible. 

Descending the winding gradients of Posilipo, we get the first glimpse of the lovely 

little Bay of Pozzuoli. The view is curious and striking. Bo deeply and sharply 

indented is the coast, and so narrow and tortuous are the channels that separate 

the islands Ischia, Procida, and Nisida, that it is difficult to distinguish the mainland. 

We enjoy a unique panorama of land and sea, islands, bays, straits, capes, and 

peninsulas all inextricably intermingled. 

Continuing our journey past the picturesque town of Pozzuoli, its semi-oriental 
looking houses clustered together on a rocky headland, like Monaco, we reach 
the hallowed ground of the classical student. No one who has read his Virgil 
or his Horace at school can help being struck by the constant succession of once 
familiar names scattered so thickly among the dry bones of the guide-books. 
The district between Cunuc and Pozzuoli is the sanction sniictonim of classical 
Italy, and " there is scarcely a spot winch is not identified with the poetical 
mythology of Greece, or associated with some name familiar in the history of 
Home." Leaving Pozzuoli, we skirt the Phlegncan Fields, which, owing to 

















their malaria-haunted situation, still retain something of their ancient sinister 
character. This tract is, however, now being drained and cultivated a good deal. 
That huge mound on our right, looking like a Celtic sepulchral barrow, is Monte 
Nuovo, a volcano, as its name denotes, of recent origin. Geologically speaking, 
it is a thing of yesterday, being thrown up in the great earthquake of September 
30th, 1538, when, as Alexandre Dumas graphically piits it, " One morning Pozzuoli 
woke up, looked around, and could not recognise its position ; where had been 
the night before a lake was now a mountain." The lake referred to is Avernus, 
a name familiar to all through the venerable and invariably misquoted classical 
tag, facilis descemus Averni, etc. This insignificant-looking volcanic mole-hill is 
the key to the physical geography of the whole district. Though the upheaval 
of Monte Nuovo has altered the configuration of the country round, the depopulation 
of this deserted but fertile country is due, not to the crater, but to the malaria, 
the scourge of the coast. The scarcity of houses on the western horn of the 
Bay of Naples is very marked, especially when contrasted with the densely 
populated sea-board on the Castellamare side. Leaving Monte Nuovo we come 
to a still more fertile tract of country, and the luxuriant vegetation of these 
Avernine hills "radiant with vines" contrasts pleasingly with the gloomy land 
" where the dusky nation of Cirnmeria dwells " of the poet. The mythological 



traditions of the beautiful plain a few miles farther on, covered with vineyards and 
olive-groves and bright with waving corn-lields, where Virgil has placed the Elysian 
Fields, seem far more appropriate to the landscape as we see it. Perhaps a sense of 
the dramatic contrast was present in the poet's mind when he placed the Paradise 
and the Inferno of the ancients so near together. 

Quite apart from the charm with which ancient fable and poetry have invested 
this district, the astonishing profusion of ruins makes it especially interesting 
to the antiquary. A single morning's walk in the environs of Baiae or Cumae will 
reveal countless fragmentary monuments of antiquities quite outside of the stock 
ruins of the guide-books, which the utilitarian instincts of the country people only 
partially conceal, Roman tombs serving as granaries or receptacles for garden produce, 
temples affording stable-room for goats and donkeys, amphitheatres half-concealed 
by olive-orchards or orange-groves, walls of ancient villas utilised in building up the 
terraced vineyards ; and, in short, the trained eye of an antiquary would, in a day's 
walk, detect a sufficient quantity of antique material almost to reconstruct another 
Pompeii. But though every acre of this antiquary's paradise teems with relics of 
the past, and though every bay and headland is crowded with memories of the 
greatest names in Roman history, we must not linger in this supremely interesting 
district, but must get on to the other beautiful features of the Gulf of Naples. 

Capri, as viewed from Naples, is the most attractive and striking feature in the 
Bay. There is a kind of fascination about this rocky island-garden which is felt 
equally by the callow tourist making his first visit to Italy, and by the seasoned 
traveller who knew Capri when it was the centre of an art colony as well known 
as is that of Newlyn at the present day. No doubt Capri is now considered by 
super-sensitive people to be as hopelessly vulgarised and hackneyed as the Isle of 
Man or the Channel Isles, now that it has become the favourite picnicking ground 
of shoals of Neapolitan excursionists ; but that is the fate of most of the beautiful 
scenery in the South of Europe, if at all easy of access. These fastidious minds 
may, however, find consolation in the thought that to the noisy excursionists, 
daily carried to and from Naples by puffing little cockle-shell steamers, the greater 
part of the island will always remain an undiscovered country. They may swarm 
up the famous steps of Anacapri, and even penetrate into the Blue Grotto, but 
they do not, as a rule, carry the spirit of geographical research farther. 

The slight annoyance caused by the great crowds is amply compensated for by 
the beauties of the extraordinarily grand scenery which is to be found within the 
inland desecrated by memories of that " deified beast Tiberius," as Dickens calls him. 
What constitutes the chief charm of the natural features of Capri are the sharp 
contrasts and the astonishing variety in the scenery. Rugged precipices, in height 
exceeding the cliffs of Tintagel, and in beauty and boldness of outline surpassing the 


crags ot the grandest Norwegian fiords, wall in a green and fertile garden-land 
covered with orange-orchards, olive-groves, and corn-fields, a region as rich and 
productive as the Channel Islands. Cruising round this rock-bound and apparently 
inaccessible island, it seems a natural impregnable fortress, a sea-girt Gibraltar 
guarding the entrance of the gulf, girdled round with precipitous crags rising a 
thousand feet sheer out of the sea, the cliff outline broken by steep ravines and 
rocky headlands, with outworks of crags, reefs, and Titanic masses of tumbled rocks. 

These physical contrasts are strikingly paralleled in the history of the island. 
This little speck on the earth's surface, now given up solely to fishing, pastoral 
pursuits, and the exploitation of tourists, and as little affected by public affairs as 
if it were in the midst of the Mediterranean, instead of being almost within 
cannon-shot of the metropolis of South Italy, has passed through many vicissitudes, 
conquered in turn by Phoenicians, Greeks, and liomans ; under Koine little known 
and used merely as a lighthouse station for the benefit of the corn-galleys plying 
from Sicily to Naples, till the old Emperor Augustus took a fancy to it, and used it 
as a sanatorium for his declining years. Some years later we find this isolated 
rock in the occupation of the infamous Tiberius, as the seat of government from 
which he ruled the destinies of the whole empire. Then, to run rapidly through 





ra eceeding centimes, we find Capri, after the fall of Rome, sharing in the fortunes 
. llul lllisi - Ml , ul: . Naples, and Losing all historic individuality till the beginning c 

th present century, when the Neapolitan Gibraltar became a political shuttlecock, 
,, ftbou1 m fan, between Naples, England, and France; and now it complacently 
accepts the destiny Nature evidently marked out for it, and has become 

sanatorium of Naples, and 
the Mecca of artists and 
'lovers of the picturesque. 

One cannot he many 
hours in Capri without 
being reminded of its tute- 
lary genius Tiberius. In 
fact, as Mr. A. J. Symonds 
has forcibly expressed it, 
"the hoof -print of illus- 
trious crime is stamped 
upon the island." All the 
religio loci, if such a phrase 
is permissible in connection 
with Tiberius, seems centred 
in this unsavoury person- 


ality. We cannot get away 
from him. His palaces and 
villas seem to occupy every 
prominent point in the 
island. Even the treasure- 
trove of the antiquary bears 
undying witness to his vices, 
and shows that Suetonius, 
in spite of recent attempts 
to whitewash the Emperor's 
memory, did not trust to 

mere legends and fables for his biography. Even the most ardent students of 
Roman history would surely be glad to be rid of this forbidding spectre that 
forces itself so persistently on their attention. To judge by the way in which the 
simple Caprioles seek to perpetuate the name of their illustrious patron, one might 
almost suppose that the Emperor, whose name is proverbial as a personification 
of crime and vice, had gone through some process akin to canonisation. 

Capri, though still famous for beautiful women, whose classic features, statuesque 




forms, and graceful carriage, recall the Helens and the Aphrodites of the Capitol 
and Vatican, and seem to invite transfer to the painter's canvas, can no longer he 
called the " artist's paradise." The pristine simplicity of these Grecian-featured 
daughters of the island, which made them invaluable as models, is now to a 
great extent lost. The march of civilisation has imhued them with the 
commercial instinct, and they now fully appreciate their artistic value. No 
casual haphazard sketches of a picturesque group of peasant girls, pleased to be 


of service to a stranger, no impromptu portraiture of a little Capriote fisher-boy, 
is now possible. It has become a "sitting" for a consideration, just as if it took place 
in an ordinary Paris atelier or a Kome studio. The idea, for which we as a nation 
of globe-trotters are most responsible, that the tourist is a gift of Providence, sent 
for their especial benefit, to be looked at in the same light as are the " kindly fruits 
of the earth," recalls to oi;r mind the quaint old Indian myth of Mondamin, the 
beautiful stranger, with his garments green and yellow, from whose dead body 
sprang up the small green feathers, afterwards to be known as maize. However, the 
Capriotes turn their visitors to better account than that ; in fact, their eminently 
practical notions on the point appear to gain ground in this once unsophisticated 
country, while the recognised methods of agriculture remain almost stationary. 



The appearance of a visitor armed with sketch-book or camera is now the signal 
for every male and female Capriole within range to pose in forced and would-be 
graceful attitudes, or to arrange themselves in unnatural conventional groups: aged 
crones sprout, up, as if by magic, on every doorstep; male loungers "lean airily on 
posts"; while at all points of the compass bashful maidens hover around, each 
balancing on her head the indispensable water-jar. These vulgarising tendencies 
explain why it is that painters are now beginning to desert Capri. 

But we are forgetting the great boast of Capri, the Blue Grotto. Everyone 
has heard of this famous cave, the beauties of which have been described by Mr. 
A. J. Symonds in the following graphic and glowing picture in prose : Entering the 
crevice-like portal, " you find yourself transported to a world of wavering, subaqueous 
sheen. The grotto is domed in many chambers ; and the water is so clear that you 
can see the bottom, silvery, with black-finned fishes diapered upon the blue-white sand. 
The flesh of a diver in this water showed like the face of children playing at snap- 
dragon ; all around him the spray leaped up with living fire ; and when the oars 
struck the surface, it was as though a phosphorescent sea had been smitten, and the 
drops ran from the blades in blue pearls." It must, however, be remembered that 
these marvels can only be perfectly seen on a clear and sunny day, and when, too, 
the sun is high in the sky. Given these favourable conditions, the least impressionable 
must feel the magic of the scene, and enjoy the shifting brilliancy of light and 

colour. The spectators seem bathed in liquid sapphire, and the sensation of being 

enclosed in a gem is strange indeed. But* we certainly shall not experience any 

such sensation if we explore this lovely grotto in the company of the noisy and 
excited tourists who daily arrive in shoals by the Naples steamer. To appreciate 
its beauties the cave must be visited alone and at leisure. 

Those who complain of the village of Capri being so sadly modernised and 
tourist-ridden will find at Anacapri some of that Arcadian simplicity they are 
seeking, for the destroying (aesthetically speaking) fingers of progress and civilisation 
have hardly touched this secluded mountain village, though scarcely an hour's walk 
from the " capital " of the island. 

\\ e will, of course, take the famous steps, and ignore the excellently engineered 
high-road that winds round the cliffs, green with arbutus and myrtle, in serpentine 
gradients, looking from the heights above mere loops of white ribbon. Anacapri 
is delightfully situated in a richly cultivated table-land, at the foot of Monte Solaro. 
Climbing the slopes of the mountain, we soon reach the Hermitage, where we have a 
fine bird's-eye view of the island, with Anacapri spread out at our feet, and the 
town of Capri clinging to the hillsides on our right. But a far grander view 
rewards our final climb to the summit. We can see clearly outlined every beautiful 
feature of the Bay of Naples, with its magnificent coast-line from Misenum to Sorrento 

NAPLES. 235 

in prominent relief almost at our feet, and raising our eyes landwards we can see the 

Campanian Plain till it is merged in the purple haze of the Apennines. To the 

south the broad expanse of water stretches away to the far horizon, and to the 
right this incomparable prospect is hounded by that " enchanted laud " where 

" Sweeps the blue Sulernian bay, 
With its sickle of white sand," 

and on a very clear day we can faintly discern a purple, jagged outline, which 
shows where " Paestum and its ruins lie." 

In spite of the undeniable beauties of Capri, it seems so given up to artists 
and amateur photographers that it is a relief to get away to a district not quite so 
well known. We have left to the last, as a fitting climax, the most beautiful bit 
of country, not only in the neighbourhood of Naples, but in the whole of South 
Italy. The coast-road from Castellamare to Sorrento, Positano, and .Amalri offers 
a delightful alternation and combination of the softest idyllic scenery with the 
wildest and most magnificent mountain and crag landscape. In fact, it is necessary 
to exercise some self-restraint in language and to curb a temptation to rhapsodise 
when describing this beautiful region. The drive from Naples to Castellamare is 
almost one continuous suburb, and change from this monotonous succession of 
streets of commonplace houses to the beautiful country we reach soon after leaving 
the volcanic district at Castellamare is very marked. In the course of our journey 
we cannot help noticing the bright yellow patches of colour on the beach and 
the flat house-tops. This is the wheat used for the manufacture of macaroni, 
of which Torre dell' Aununziata is the great centre. All along the road the 
houses, too, have their loggias and balconies festooned with the strips of finished 
macaroni spread out to dry. All this lights up the dismal prospect of apparently 
never-ending buildings, and gives a literally local colour to the district. There 
is not much to delay the traveller in Castellamare, and soon after leaving the 
overcrowded and rather evil-smelling town we enter upon the beautiful coast-road 
to Sorrento. For the first few miles the road runs near the shore, sometimes almost 
overhanging the sea. We soon get a view of Vico, picturesquely situated on a 
rocky eminence, and familiar to us from Stanfield's painting. The scenery gets 
bolder as we climb the Punta di Scutola. From this promontory we get the first 
glimpse of the beautiful Piano di Sorrento. It looks like one vast garden, so 
thickly is it covered with vineyards, olive groves, and orange and lemon orchards, 
with an occasional aloe and palm tree to give an Oriental touch to the landscape. 
The bird's-eye view from the promontory gives the spectator a general impression 
of a carpet, in which the prevailing tones of colour are the richest greens 
and gold. Descending to this fertile plateau, we find a delightful blending of 



the Sterner elements of the picturesque with the pastoral ami idyllic. The plain 
b intersected with romantic, craggy ravines and precipitous, tortuous gorges, 
mb ling the ancient stone quarries of Syracuse, their ragged sides covered with 
olives, wild vines, aloes, and Indian figs. The road to Amalfi here leaves the sea 
and is carried through the heart of this rich and fertile region, and about three 
n ,il,. s from Sorrento it begins to climb the little mountain range which separates 
tin; Sorrento plain from the Bay of Salerno. 


We can hardly, however, leave the level little town, consecrated to memories 
of Tasso, unvisited. Its flowers and its gardens, next to its picturesque situation, 
constitute the great charm of Sorrento. It seems a kind of garden-picture, its 
peaceful and smiling aspect contrasting strangely with its bold and stern situation. 
Cut off, a natural fortress, from the rest of the peninsula by precipitous gorges, like 
Constantine in Algeria, while its sea-front consists of a precipice descending sheer 
to the water's edge, no wonder that it invites comparison with such dissimilar towns 
as Grasse, Monaco, Amalfi, Constantine, and even with our own Ilfracombe and 
Torquay, according to the aspect which first strikes the visitor. After seeing Sorrento, 
with its astonishing wealth of flowers, the garden walls overflowing with cataracts of 
roses, and the scent of acacias, orange and lemon flowers pervading everything, we 
begin to think that, in comparing the outlying plain of Sorrento to a flower-garden, 
we have been too precipitate. Compared with Sorrento itself, the plain is but a 




great orchard or market-garden. Sorrento is the real flower-garden, a miniature 

?, " the village of flowers and the flower of villages." 

We leave Sorrento and its gardens and continue our excursion to Amain 

and Salerno. After 
reaching the point 
at the summit 
of the Colline del 
Piano, whence we 
get our first view 
of the famous 
Isles of the Syrens, 
looking far more 
picturesque than 
inviting, witli their 
sharp, jagged out- 
line, we come in 
sight of a magni- 
ficent stretch of 
cliff and mountain 
scenery. The 
limestone preci- 
pices extend un- 
interruptedly for 
miles, their out- 
line broken by a 
series of stupend- 
ous pinnacles, tur- 
rets, obelisks, and 
pyramids cutting 
sharply into the 
blue sky-line. The 
scenery, though 
so wild and bold, 
is not bleak and 
dismal. The bases 

of these towering precipices are covered with a wild tangle of myrtle, arbutus, 

and tamarisk, and wild vines and prickly pears have taken root in the ledges 
The ravines and gorges which relieve the uniformity of this great 

sea-wall of cliff have their lower slopes covered with terraced and trellised 


NAPLES. 239 

orchards of lemons and oranges, an irregular mass of green and gold. Positano, 
after Amain, is certainly the most picturesque place on these shores, and, heing 
less known, and consequently not so much reproduced in idealised sketches and 
"touched up" photographs as Amain, its first view must come upon the traveller 
rather as a delightful surprise. Its situation is curious. The town is built along 
each side of a huge ravine, cut off from access landwards by an immense wall of 
precipices. The houses climb the craggy slopes in an irregular amphitheatre, at 
every variety of elevation and level, and the views from the heights above give a 
general effect of a cataract of houses having been poured down each side of the gorge. 
After a few miles of the grandest cliff and mountain scenery we reach the Capo 
di Conca, which juts out into the bay, dividing it into two crescents. Looking w r est, 
we see a broad stretch of mountainous country, where 

" . . . . . A few white villages 
Scattered above, below, some in the clouds, 
Some on the margins of the dark blue sen, 
And glittering through their lemon groves, announce 
The region of Amain." 

To attempt to describe Amain seems a hopeless task. The churches, towers, 
and arcaded houses, scattered about in picturesque confusion on each side of the 
gigantic gorge which cleaves the precipitous mountain, gay with the rich colouring 
of Italian domestic architecture, make up an indescribably picturesque medley of 
loggias, arcades, balconies, domes, and cupolas, relieved by flat, whitewashed roofs. 
The play of colour produced by the dazzling glare of the sun and the azure 
amplitude of sea and sky gives that general effect of light, colour, sunshine, and 
warmth of atmosphere which is so hard to portray, either with the brush or the pen. 
Every nook of this charming little rock-bound Eden affords tempting material for 
the artist, and the whole region is rich in scenes suggestive of poetical ideas. 

When we look at the isolated position of this once famous city, shut off from 
the rest of Italy by a bulwark of precipices, in places so overhanging the town that 
they seem to dispute its possession witli the tideless sea which washes the walls of 
the houses, it is not easy to realise that it was recognised in mediaeval times as the 
first naval Power in Europe, owning factories and trading establishments in all the 
chief cities of the Levant, and producing a code of maritime laws whose leading 
principles have been incorporated in modern international law. No traces remain of 
the city's ancient grandeur, and the visitor is tempted to look upon the history of 
its former greatness as purely legendary. 

The road to Salerno is picturesque, but not so striking as that between Positano 
and Amain. It is not so daringly engineered, and the scenery is tamer. Vietri 
is the most interesting stopping-place. It is beautifully situated at the entrance to 


'////: /'/< 

the gorge-like valley which leads to what has been called the "Italian Switzerland," 
and is surrounded on all sides by lemon and orange orchards. Salerno will not 

probably detain the visitor 
long, and, in fact, the 
town is chiefly known to 
English travellers as the 
starting-place for the fa- 
mous ruins of Paestum. 

These temples, after 
those of Athens, are the 
best preserved, and cer- 
tainly the most accessible, 
of any Greek ruins in 
Europe, and are a lasting 
witness to the splendour of 
the ancient Greek colony of 
Poseidonia (Paestum). "Non 
cuivis Jtomini coniinnit nil ire 
CoriiitJiiun," says the poet, 

and certainly a visit to these beautiful ruins 
will make one less regret the inability to 
visit the Athenian Parthenon. Though the 
situation of the Passtum Temple lacks the 
picturesque irregularity of the Acropolis, and 
the Temple of Girgenti in Sicily, these ruins 
will probably impress the imaginative spectator 
more. Their isolated and desolate position in 
the midst of this wild and abandoned plain, 
without a vestige of any building near, suggest 
an almost supernatural origin, and give a weird 
touch to this scene of lonely and majestic 
grandeur. There seems a dramatic contrast in 
y ico . bringing to an end at the solemn Temples of 

Paestum our excursion in and around Naples. 

\\e iM'giin with the noise, bustle, and teeming life of a great nineteenth-century 
ity, and we have gone back some twenty-five centuries to the long-buried glory of 
Greek civilisation. 



QO long as Venice is unvisitecl a new sensation is among the possibilities of life. 

There is no town like it in Europe. Amsterdam has its canals, but Venice 

is all canals ; Genoa has its palaces, but in Venice they are more numerous and 

more beautiful. Its situation is uniqiie, 
on a group of islands in the calm 
lagoon. But the Venice of to-day is 
not the Venice of thirty years ago. 
Even then a little of the old romance 
had gone, for a long railway viaduct 
had linked it to the mainland. In 
earlier days it could be reached only 
by a boat, for a couple of miles of 
salt water lay between the city and the 
marshy border of the Paduan delta. 
Now Venice is still more changed, and 
for the worse. The people seem more 
poverty-stricken and pauperised. Its 
buildings generally, especially the or- 
dinary houses, look more dingy and 
dilapidated. The paint seems more 
chipped, the plaster more peeled, the 
brickwork more rotten ; everything 
seems to tell of decadence, commercial 
and moral, rather than of regeneration. 
In the case of the more important 
structures, indeed, the effects of time 
have often been more than repaired. 

Here a restoration, not seldom needless and ill-judged, has marred some venerable relic of 
olden days with crude patches of colour, due to modern reproductions of the ancient and 
original work : the building has suffered, as it must be admitted not a few of our 
own most precious heirlooms have suffered, from the results of zeal untempered by 
discretion, and the destroyer has worked his will under the guise of the restorer. 
We, however, in England cannot even now cast a stone at the architects of Italy, and 
our revilings at the " translation " of the Fondaco dei Turchi must be checked when 
we remember what has been done during the last few years at the Abbey of St. Alban's. 


The P/'a:;cila, Venice. 


The mosquito flourishes still in Venice as it did of yore. it would be too much 
to expect that the winged representative of the genus should thrive less in 
Italian freedom than under Austrian bondage, but something might have been done 
to extirpate the two-legged species. He is present in force in most towns south of 
the Alps, hut he is nowhere so abundant or so exasperating as in Venice. If there 
is one place in one town in Europe where the visitor might fairly desire to possess 
his soul in peace and to gaze in thoughtful wonder, it is in the great piazza, in 
front of the fasade, strange and beautiful as a dream, of the duomo of St. 
Mark. Halt there and try to feast on its marvels, to worship in silence and in 
peace. Vain illusion. There is no crowd of hurrying vehicles or throng of hurrying 
men to interfere of necessity with your visions (there are often more pigeons than 
people in the piazza), but up crawls a beggar, in garments vermin-haunted, whining 
for "charity"; down swoop would-be guides, volunteering useless suggestions in 
broken and barely intelligible English ; from this side and from that throng vendors 
of rubbish, shell-ornaments, lace, paltry trinkets, and long ribands of photographic 
" souvenirs," appalling in their ugliness. He who can stand five minutes before 
San Marco and retain a catholic love of mankind must indeed be blessed with a 
temper of much more than average amiability. 

The death of Rome was indirectly the birth of Venice. Here in the great days 
of the Empire there was not, so far as we know, even a village. Invaders came, 

the Adriatic littoral was wrecked ; its salvage is to be found among the islands 

of the lagoons. Aquileia went up in flames, the cities of the Paduan delta trembled 

before the hordes of savage Huns, but the islands of its coast held out a hope 
of safety. What in those days these camps of refuge must have been can be inferred 
from the islands which now border the mainland, low, marshy, overgrown by thickets, 
and fringed by reeds ; they were unhealthy, but only accessible by intricate and 
difficult channels, and with little to tempt the spoiler. It was better to risk fever in 
the lagoons than to be murdered or driven off into slavery on the mainland. It was 
some time before Venice took the lead among these scattered settlements. It 
became the centre of government in the year 810, but it was well-nigh two 
centuries before the Venetian State attained to any real eminence. Towards this, 
the first and perhaps the most important step was crushing the Istrian and 
Dalmatian pirates. This enabled the Republic to become a great "Adriatic and 
Oriental Company," and to get into their hands the carrying trade to the East. 
The men of Venice were both brave and shrewd, something like our Elizabethan 
forefathers, mighty on sea and land, but men of understanding also in the arts of 
peace. She did battle with Genoa for commercial supremacy, with the Turk for 
existence. She was too strong for the former, but the hitter at last wore her out, 
and Lepsuito was one of her latest and least fruitful triumphs. Still, it was not 


till the end of the sixteenth century that a watchful eye could detect the symptoms 
of senile decay. Then Venice tottered gradually to its grave. Its slow disintegration 
occupied more than a century and a half; but the French Revolution indirectly 
caused the collapse of Venice, for its last doge abdicated, and the city was 
occupied by Napoleon in 1797. After his downfall Venetia was handed over to 
Austria, and found in the Hapsburg a harsh and unsympathetic master. It made a 
vain struggle for freedom in 1848, but was at last ceded to Italy after the 
Austro-Prussian war in 1866. 

The city is built upon a group of islands ; its houses are founded on piles, for 
there is no really solid ground. How far the present canals correspond with the 
original channels between small islands, how far they are artificial, it is difficult to 
say ; but whether the original islets were few or many, there can be no doubt that 
they were formerly divided by the largest, or the Grand Canal, the Rio Alto or Deep 
Stream. This takes an S-like course, and parts the city roughly into two halves. 
The side canals, which are very numerous, for the town is said to occupy one 
hundred and fourteen islands, are seldom wider, often rather narrower than a 
by-street in the City of London. In Venice, as has often been remarked, not a 
cart or a carriage, not even a coster's donkey-cart, can be used. Streets enough 
there are, but they are narrow and twisting, very like the courts in the heart of 
London. The carriage, the cab, and the omnibus are replaced by the gondolas. 
These it is needless to describe, for who does not know them ? One consequence 
of this substitution of canals for streets is that the youthful Venetian takes to the 
water like a young duck to a pond, and does not stand much on ceremony in the 
matter of taking off his clothes. Turn into a side canal on a summer's day, and 
one may see the younger members of a family all bathing from their own doorstep, 
the smallest one, perhaps, to prevent accidents, being tied by a cord to a convenient 
ring ; nay, sometimes as we are wandering through one of the narrow calle (alleys) 
we hear a soft patter of feet, something damp brushes past, and a little Venetian 
lad, lithe and black-eyed, bare-legged, bare-backed, and all but bare-breeched, shoots 
past as he makes a short cut to his clothes across a block of buildings, round which 
he cannot yet manage to swim. 

In such a city as Venice it is hard to praise one view above another. There 
is the noble sweep of the Grand Canal, with its palaces; there are many 'groups of 
buildings on a less imposing scale, but yet more picturesque, on the smaller canals, 
often almost every turn brings some fresh surprise ; but there are two views 
which always rise up in my mind before all others whenever my thoughts turn to 
Venice, more especially as it used to be. One is the view of the faQade of San 
Marco from the Piazza. I shall make no apology for quoting words which describe 
more perfectly than my powers permit the impressions awakened by this dream-like 



architectural conception. ''Beyond 
those troops of ordered arches 
there rises a vision out of the 
earth, and all the great square 
seems to have opened from it in 
a kind of awe, that we may see 
it far away : a multitude of pillars 
and white domes clustered into a 
long, low pyramid of coloured light, 
a treasure-heap, as it seems, partly 
of gold and partly of opal and 
mother-of-pearl, hollowed beneath 
into five great vaulted porches, 
ceiled with fair mosaic and beset 
with sculptures of alabaster, clear- 
as amber and delicate as ivory; 
sculpture fantastic and involved, of 
palm-leaves and lilies, and grapes 
and pomegranates, and birds cling- 
ing and fluttering among the 
branches, all twined together into 
an endless network of buds and 
plumes, and, in the midst of it, 
the solemn forms of angels, scep- 
tred and robed to the feet, and 
leaning to each other across the 
gates, their features indistinct 
among the gleaming of the golden 
ground through the leaves beside 
them, interrupted and dim, like the 
morning light as it faded back 
among the branches of Eden when 
first its gates were angel-guarded 
long ago. And round the walls 
of the porches there are set pillars 
of variegated stones, jasper and 
porphyry, and deep-green serpen- 
tine, spotted with flakes of snow, 
and marbles that half refuse and 







half yield to the sunshine, Cleopatra-like, ' their bluest veins to kiss,' the shadow as 
it steals back from them revealing line after line of azure undulation, as a receding 
tide leaves the waved sand : their capitals rich with interwoven tracery, rooted knots 
of herbage, and drifting leaves of acanthus and vine, and mystical signs all 
beginning and ending in the Cross : and above them in the broad archivolts a 
continuous chain of language and of life, angels and the signs of heaven and the 
labours of men, each in its appointed season upon the earth ; and above them another 
range of glittering pinnacles, mixed with white arches edged with scarlet flowers, a 
confusion of delight, among which the breasts of the Greek horses are seen blazing 
in their breadth of golden strength, and the St. Mark's lion, lifted on a blue field 
covered with stars, until at last, as if in ecstasy, the crests of the arches break into 
a marble foam, and toss themselves far into the blue sky in flashes and wreaths 
of sculptured spray, as if the breakers on the Lido shore had been frost-bound before 
they fell, and the sea-nymphs had inlaid them with coral and amethyst."* 

This is San Marco as it was. Eight centuries had harmed it little ; they had 
but touched the building with a gentle hand and had mellowed its tints into tender 
harmony; now its new masters, cruel in their kindness, have restored the mosaics 
and scraped the marbles ; now raw blotches and patches of crude colour glare out 
in violent contrast with those parts which, owing to the intricacy of the carved 
work, or some other reason, it has been found impossible to touch. To look at 
St. Mark's now is like listening to some symphony by a master of harmony which is 
played on instruments all out of tune. 

Photographs, pictures, illustrations of all kinds, have made St. Mark's so familiar 
to all the world that it is needless to attempt to give any description of its 
details. It may suffice to say that the cathedral stands on the site of a smaller 
and older building, in which the relics of St. Mark, the tutelary saint of Venice, 
had been already enshrined. The present structure was begun about the year 976, 
and occupied very nearly a c'entury in building. But it is adorned with the spoils 
of many a classic structure: with columns and slabs of marble and of porphyry 
and of serpentine, which were hewn from quarries in Greece and Syria, in Egypt and 
Libya, by the hands of Roman slaves, and decked the palaces and the baths, the 
temples and the theatres of Roman cities. 

The inside of St. Mark's is not less strange and impressive, but hardly so 
attractive as the exterior. It is plain in outline and almost heavy in design, a 
Greek cross in plan, with a vaulted dome above the centre and each arm. Much 
as the exterior of St. Mark's owes to marble, porphyry, and mosaic, it would be 
beautiful if constructed only of grey limestone. This could hardly be said of the 
interior : take away the choice stones from columns and dado and pavement, strip 

* Ruskiu, " Stones of Venice." 


away the crust of mosaic, those richly rohed figures on ground of gold, from wall and 
from vault (for the whole interior is veneered with marbles or mosaics), and only a 
rather dark, massive building would remain, which would seem rather lower and 
rather smaller than one had been led to expect. 

The other view in Venice which seems to combine best its peculiar character 
with its picturesque beauty may be obtained at a very short distance from St. 
Mark's. Leave the facade of which we have just spoken, the three great masts, 
with their richly ornamented sockets of bronze, from which, in the proud days of 
Venice, floated the banners of Candia, Cyprus, and the Morea ; turn from the 
Piazza into the Piazzetta ; leave on the one hand the huge Campanile, more huge 
than beautiful (if one may venture to whisper a criticism), on the other the 
sumptuous portico of the Ducal Palace ; pass on beneath the imposing facade of 
the palace itself, with its grand colonnade ; on between the famous columns, 
brought more than seven centuries since from some Syrian ruins, which bear the 
lion of St. Mark and the statue of St. Theodore, the other patron of the Republic; 
and then, standing on the Molo at the head of the Riva degli Schiavoni, look 
around ; or better still, step down into one of the gondolas which are in waiting 
at the steps, and push off a few dozen yards from the land: then look back on 
the facade of the Palace and the Bridge of Sighs, along the busy quays of the 
Riva, towards the green trees of the Giardini Publici, look up the Piazzetta, between 
the twin columns, to the glimpses of St. Mark's and the towering height of the 
Campanile, along the fa9ade of the Royal Palace, with the fringe of shrubbery below 
contrasting pleasantly with all these masses of masonry, up the broad entrance to 
the Grand Canal, between its rows of palaces, across it to the great dome of Santa 
Maria della Salute and the Dogana della Mare, with its statue of Fortune 
(appropriate to the past rather than to the present) gazing out from its seaward 
angle. Beyond this, yet farther away, lies the Tsola San Giorgio, a group of plain 
buildings only, a church, with a dome simple in outline and a brick campanile 
almost without adornment, yet the one thing in Venice, after the great group of St. 
Mark's and the Palace of the Dukes, which impresses itself on the rnind. From 
this point of view Venice rises before our eyes in its grandeur and in its simplicity, 
in its patrician and its plebeian aspects, as " a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean, throned 
on her hundred isles .... a ruler of the waters and their powers." 

But to leave Venice without a visit to the Grand Canal would be to leave 
the city with half the tale untold. Its great historic memories are gathered around 
the Piazza of St. Mark ; this is a silent witness to its triumphs in peace and in 
war, to the deeds, noble and brave, of its rulers. But the Grand Canal is the 
centre of its life, commercial and domestic ; it leads from its quays to its Exchange, 
from the Riva degli Schiavoni and the Dogana della Mare to the Rialto. It is 


/ /,/: .s 

vy-; /,'/'. i .Y/-,M A'. 

I htoniQ, JMnrano, 

bordered by tbe palaces of the great historic families who were the rulers and 
princes of Venice, who made the State by their bravery and prudence, who destroyed 
it by their jealousies and self-seeking. The Grand Canal is a genealogy of Venice, 
illustrated and engraved on stone. As one glides along in a gondola, century after 
century in the history of domestic architecture, from the twelfth to the eighteenth, 
slowly unrolls itself before' us. There are palaces which still remain much as 
they were of old, but here and there some modern structure, tasteless and ugly, 
has elbowed for itself a place among them ; not a few, also, have been converted 
into places of business, and are emblazoned with prominent placards proclaiming 
the trade of their new masters, worthy representatives of an age that is not ashamed 
to daub the cliffs of the St. Gothard with the advertisements of hotels and 
to paint its boulders for the benefit of vendors of chocolate ! 

I'.ut in the present era one must, be thankful for anything that is spared by 
-reed of wealth and the vulgarity of a "democracy." .Much of old Venice still 
remains, though little steamers splutter up and down the Grand Canal, and ugly 
irn bri.lg.-s span its waters, both, it must be admitted, convenient, though hideous; 
still the gondolas survive; still one hears at every corner the boatman's strange 



cry of warning, sometimes the only sound except the knock of the oar that 
breaks the silence of the liquid street. Every turn reveals something quaint and 
old-world. Now it is a market-boat, with its wicker panniers hanging outside, 
loaded with fish or piled with vegetables from one of the more distant islets ; now 
some little bridge, now some choice architectural fragment, a doorway, a turret, an 
oriel, or a row of richly ornate windows, now a tiny piazzetta leading up to the 
facade and campanile of a more than half-hidden church ; now the marble enclosure 
of a well. Still the water-carriers go about with buckets of hammered copper hung 
at each end of a curved pole ; still, though more rarely, some quaint costume may 
be seen in the calle ; still the dark shops in the narrow passages are full of 
goods strange to an English eye, and bright in their season with the flowers and 
fruits of an Italian summer ; still the purple pigeons gather in scores at the wonted 
hour to be fed on the Piazza of St. Mark, and, fearless of danger, convert the 
distributor of a pennyworth of maize into a walking dovecot. 

Still Venice is delightful to the eyes (unhappily not always so to the nose in 
many a nook and corner) notwithstanding the pressure of poverty and the wantonness 
of restorers. Perchance it may revive and yet see better days (its commerce is said 
to have increased since 1866) ; but if so unless a change comes over the spirit of 

Diioino and Sta. Fosca, Torccllo. 



the age, tlic result will he the more complete destruction of all that made its 
(harm and its wonder; so this notice may appropriately he closed by a brief sketch 
of one scene which seems in harmony with the memories of its departed greatness, 
a Venetian funeral. The dead no longer rest among the living beneath the pavement 
of the churches: the gondola takes the Venetian "about the streets" to the daily 
business of life ; it bears him away from his home to the island cemetery. From 
some narrow alley, muffled by the enclosing masonry, comes the sound of a funeral 
march ; a procession emerges on to the piazzetta by the water-side ; the coffin is 
carried by long-veiled acolytes and mourners with lighted torches, accompanied 
by a brass band with clanging cymbals. A large gondola, ornamented with 
black and silver, is in waiting at the nearest landing place ; the band and most 
of the attendants halt by the water-side ; the coffin is placed in the boat, the torches 
are extinguished; a wilder wail of melancholy music, a more resonant clang of 
the cymbals, sounds the last farewell to home and its pleasures and its work ; 
the oars are dipped in the water, and another child of Venice is taken from the city 
of the living to the city of the dead. 

A long line of islands completely shelters Venice from the sea, so that the 
waters around its walls are very seldom ruffled into waves. The tide also rises 
and falls but little, not more than two or three feet, if so much. Thus no banks 
of pestiferous rnud are laid bare at low water by the ebb and flow, and yet 
some slight circulation is maintained in the canals, which, were it not for this, would 
be as intolerable as cesspools. Small boats can find their way over most parts of 
the lagoon, where in many places a safe route has to be marked out with 
stakes, but for large vessels the channels are few. A long island, Malamocco by name, 
intervenes between Venice and the Adriatic, on each side of which are the chief 
if not the only entrances for large ships. At its northern end is the sandy beach 
of the Lido, a great resort of the Venetians, for there is good sea-bathing. But 
except this, Malamocco has little to offer; there is more interest in other parts 
of the lagoon. At the southern end, some fifteen miles away, the old town of 
Chioggia is a favourite excursion. On the sea side the long fringe of narrow 
islands, of which Malamocco is one, protected by massive walls, forms a barrier 
against the waves of the Adriatic. On the land side is the dreary fever-haunted 
region of the Laguna Morta, like a vast fen, beyond which rise the serrate peaks 
of the Alps and the broken summits of the Euganean Hills. The town itself, 
the Roman Fossa Claudia, is a smaller edition of Venice, joined like it to the 
mainland by a bridge. If it has fewer relics of architectural value it has suffered 
less from modern changes, and has retained much more of its old-world character. 

Murauo, an island or group of islands, is a tiny edition of Venice, and a 
much shorter excursion, for it lies only about a mile and a half away to the north of 


the city. Here is the principal seat of the workers in glass ; here are made those 
exquisite reproductions of old Venetian glass and of ancient mosaic which have 
made the name of Salviati noted in all parts of Europe. Here, too, is a cathedral 
which, though it has suffered from time, neglect, and restoration, is still a grand 
relic. At the eastern end there is a beautiful apse enriched by an arcade and 
decorated with inlaid marbles, but the rest of the exterior is plain. As usual in 
this part of Italy (for the external splendour of St. Mark's is exceptional) all 
richness of decoration is reserved for the interior. Here columns of choice stones 
support the arches ; there is a fine mosaic in the eastern apse, but the glory of 
Murano is its floor, a superb piece of opus Alexandrinum, inlaid work of marbles 
and porphyries, bearing date early in the eleventh century, and richer in design 
than even that at St. Mark's, for peacocks and other birds, with tracery of strange 
design, are introduced into its patterns. 

But there is another island* beyond Murano, some half-dozen miles away from 
Venice, which must not be left unvisited. It is reached by a delightful excursion 
over the lagoon, among lonely islands thinly inhabited, the garden grounds of 
Venice, where they are not left to run wild with rank herbage or are covered by trees. 
This is Torcello, the ancient Altinum. Here was once a town of note, the centre 
of the district when Venice was struggling into existence. Its houses now are few 
and ruinous ; the ground is half overgrown with poplars and acacias and pomegranates, 
red in summer-time with scarlet floweis. But it possesses two churches which, though 
small in size, are almost unique in their interest, the duomo, dedicated to St. Mary, 
and the church of Sta. Fosca. They stand side by side, and are linked together by 
a small cloister. The former is a plain basilica which retains its ancient plan and 
arrangement almost intact. At the west * end is an octagonal baptistery, which, 
instead of being separated from the cathedral by an atrium or court, is only divided 
from it by a passage. The exterior of the cathedral is plain ; the interior 
is not much more ornate. Ancient columns, with quaintly carved capitals 
supporting stilted semicircular arches, divide the aisles from the nave. Each 
of these has an apsidal termination. The high altar stands in the centre of the 
middle one, and behind it, against the wall, the marble throne of the bishop 
is set lip on high, and is approached by a long flight of marble steps. On 
each side, filling up the remainder of the curve, six rows of steps rise up like 
the seats of an amphitheatre, the places of the attendant priests. The chancel, 
true to its name, is formed by enclosing a part of the nave witli a low stone 
wall and railing. Opinions differ as to the date of this cathedral. According to 

* I caniiof answer for the 'accuracy of the compass indications. It did not occur to me to observe, and in Italy 
little heed is paid to ''orientation." Rome, as the late Dean Stanley remarked, is in some respects more Protestant 
than Anglican churchmen. 



Feigusson it waa erected early in the eleventh century, but it stands on the site of 
oiie quit.- tour centuries older, and reproduces the arrangement of its predecessor 
if it doea not actually incorporate portions of it. Certainly the columns and 
capitals in the nave belong, as a rule, to an earlier building. Indeed, they have 
probably done duty more than once, and at least some of them were sculptured 
before the name of Attila bad been beard of in the delta of the North Italian rivers. 
The adjoining church of Sta. Fosca is hardly less interesting. An octagonal 
case, with apses at the eastern end, supports a circular drum, which is covered 

Chiaggia, looting 

the Atlriatic. 

by a low conical roof, and a cloister or corridor surrounds the greater part of 
the church. This adds much to the beauty of the design, the idea, as Fergusson 
remarks, being evidently borrowed from the circular colonnades of the Koinan 
temples. Ee also justly praises the beauty of the interior. In this church also, 
which in its present condition is not so old as the cathedral, the materials of a 
much older building or buildings have been employed. But over these details 
or the mosaics in the cathedral we must not linger, and must only pause to 
mention the curious stone chair in the adjacent court which bears the name 
of the throne of Attila; perhaps, like the chair of the 'Dukes of Carinthia, it 
was tbe ancient seat of the chief magistrate of the island. 











There are two ways of journeying from Venice to Trieste, one by sea, the 
other by land. On the former, except at the beginning and the end, the coast is 
left far away ; and even if the course of the steamer were to lie nearer to the 
land but little could be seen except the dim outlines of distant hills, for broad 
and low alluvial plains intervene between them and the sea. The railway also 
avoids the coast, and passes some distance inland near to or along the foot of 
the hills ; for towns are few and small, and the population is sparse on the level 
marshy delta of the Piave and the Tagliamento. So, although there is some pretty 
scenery when the rail- 
way begins to hug 
the hills; though there 
are one or two towns 
of interest passed en 
route; though a fine 
old cathedral and a 
small village among 
fragments of ruin near 
the embouchure of the 
Tagliameuto indicate 
the site of Aquileia, 
that great city which 
Attila and his hordes 
destroyed, we will pass 
on at once across the 
Austrian frontier to 


the chief port of the 
Northern Adriatic. 

Trieste in aspect 
is the opposite to 

Venice. The latter looks more picturesque than prosperous, the former more 
prosperous than picturesque. The one owes more to art than to nature, the 
other more to nature than, in a certain sense, to art. Still, as will be seen, 
there are in Trieste one or two nooks where the antiquarian will be rewarded. 
In the forefront is a fine modern seaport, but behind this and encompassed 
by this is an old-fashioned town. The beauty of the situation is beyond question. 
The modern town, with its harbours, occupies a level tract of land, part of 
which has been reclaimed from the sea. At the mouth of a small rocky valley, 
overlooked by the spurs of the Istrian hills, the situation of Trieste, though on a 
much larger scale, reminds one a little of that of Hastings. The town covers the 

Villa iViramar, near Trieste. 


narrow space between the water's edge and the hills, up the slopes of which it climbs. 
A broad quay intervenes between the sea and a line of blocks of large and lofty 
buildings. These at one place, where they are grandest, form a kind of square, open on 
the western side to the sea; among them are the palatial offices of the Austrian Lloyd 
Company and the fine group of the new municipal buildings. Projecting moles 
enclose the harbours, old and new, and from the end of one of these rises a lofty 
lighthouse. Nearer to the railway station, which is at the northern end of Trieste, 
the continuity of the buildings is again broken ; this time by a large dock, which 
enables the vessels to discharge their cargoes almost at the doors of the warehouses. 
At the head of this rises the church of St. Antonio, a large building in a modern 
Greek style. In all this part of Trieste the streets are broad and level, paved with 
slabs of stone ; the shops are large, the houses high and substantial, and often really 
handsome. On each side of the valley, which has been mentioned above, the 
town mounts the slopes. The houses stand thickest upon the southern side, where 
they climb up the hill and cluster round a fortress on the summit. This is the old 
town of Trieste. Its narrow, winding streets so steep as to be ill suited for vehicles ; 
its long nights of steps affording to foot passengers a more direct line of ascent ; 
its old and often shabby houses, form a contrast as complete as possible with the 
modern seaport below. For more than twenty centuries there has been a town upon 
this headland, and among these houses we must search for whatever relics of 
antiquity Trieste may have to show. The most important is almost on the summit 
of the hill, on a little plateau, if it deserves the name, just below and outside the 
walls of the castle. It may be reached more quickly by one of those long flights 
of steps. On this, as we rise higher, we find a beggar posted at each angle, a 
position discreetly chosen, for here of necessity the short-winded visitor must halt to 
take breath, and thus cannot avoid giving ear to the petitioner. It must be a 
matter for a refined calculation to ascertain which is the most lucrative position; 
for though the halts must .perforce become longer with each flight mounted, the 
supply of kreutzers, like that of breath, may begin to run short. 

These steps lead us to an open piazza, bounded on one side by a terrace wall, 
on the other by an old-looking church with a low campanile. This is the duomo 
of Trieste, dedicated to San Giusto. It seems at first sight hardly more than a very 
ordinary parish church: small and mean for the cathedral of such an important town; 
but on closer examination it makes up in interest for any deficiency in architectural 
splendour. On approaching the west front we notice two plain, deep arches at the 
base of the tower. These lay bare to view the basement and two columns of a building 
evidently Roman. Higher up part of the frieze of a temple is incorporated into the 
Another column is built into the south wall near its eastern angle. We 
look through an open door into the lower chamber of the same tower and see more 



columns. On each side of the west doorway halves of Roman tombs, with rudely 
carved heads, are built into the wall. The interior of the church is not less 
interesting than the exterior. It consists of a central nave with side aisles ; the 
latter also are flanked by narrow aisles at a slightly higher level. These are divided 
one from another by plain semicircular arches resting on columns. The material 
probably is marble or granite, but it is, or was, hidden by a casing of red stuff, 
a detestable kind of decoration which is too common in southern Europe. The 
capitals, like the columns, are varied in size, design and date. Some are Eoman, 
others appear to be Byzantine, probably of a rather early date. Above these are impost 
blocks, which also 
vary so as to 
bring the spring 
of the arches to 
a uniform level. 
It is evident that 
this part of the 
cathedral is very 
ancient ; a frag- 
ment of an old 
basilica, in the 
building of which 
the materials of 
a temple of pre- 
Christian times 
were used. At 
the eastern end 
are apses, and in 

those terminating the aisles some curious ancient mosaics still remain. The rest of 
the church is assigned to the fourteenth century, but the original basilica is supposed 
to have been erected in the sixth century, or perhaps a little earlier. In the 
later work of this church there is nothing remarkable, but some who cherish the 
memory of a " conquered cause " may find an interest in gazing at the slab which 
covers the remains of Don Carlos, brother of Ferdinand VII. of Spain. 

Nothing is known of Trieste until the first century before the present era, when 
it was conquered by the Romans. A colony appears to have been established at 
Tergeste before 51 B.C., for in that year it was attacked and plundered by some 
of its wild neighbours. To protect it against a recurrence of this mishap, Octavianus 
afterwards fortified the town. On the break-up of the Roman Empire Tergeste 
shared the fate of Istria, and passed under various hands; and then it maintained 

Bay of Parenzo. 



a,, independent existence under its Counts, and after a long struggle with Venice it 
seemed itself from tliat Power in IMS'.) by invoking the protection of Leopold of 
Austria, into which realm it was ultimately absorbed. But for a long time 

Tergeste was a much less 
important place than Aquileia, 
which was the principal 
Koman harbour at the north 
end of the Adriatic. The rise 
of Trieste began early in the 
eighteenth century, when it 
was made a free port by 
Charles VI., and was espe- 
cially fostered by Maria 
Theresa, his daughter. Now 
it is the chief mercantile 
port of the Austrian Empire, 
and engrosses almost the 
whole trade of the Adriatic. 
Its population in the middle 
of the last century was under 
seven thousand ; it is now 
more than ten times that 
number. In 1880 the town 
itself was said to contain 
seventy -four thousand five 
hundred and forty -four in- 
habitants, with about sixty 
thousand more in the sub- 
urbs. As may be supposed, 
there is a great mixture of 
races, but the majority are 
Italian. It is the head- 
quarters of the Austrian Lloyd 
Company, the seat of the 
bishopric of Capo d'Istria, and 
the centre of government of 

Istria. Italy casts longing eyes at Trieste: all the district between it and 
the frontier forms part of the Italia irinli-nln for which its more noisy patriots 
continue to clamour. But this is too valuable to be given up by Austria, except 

tli Kicfjnh, 7'rifs/e. 



under the compulsion of tlie direst disaster. The cession of Trieste would mean 
the loss of her finest port on the Adriatic. If one may judge by appearances, the 
inhabitants are better off as they are ; for even if the dual government is neither 
particularly wealthy nor prosperous, still less is that of United Italy. Each nation, 
like every other one in Europe, has formidable breakers ahead, but the future of the 
latter is certainly not more hopeful than that of the former. Italy is crashed down 
by debt and taxation, and has its hands full enough for many a year to come. It 
would do well to set in order the land which it has obtained, to make the lazy 
industrious and the liars truthful and the thieves honest, before it seeks to 
remove its neighbour's landmark and to acquire a territory to which it has only a 
sentimental claim. 

But before quitting Trieste let us try to give some slight idea of the surrounding 
scenery. Except for its situation, as has been said, and on account of its palatial 
structures facing the sea, the town itself is not particularly attractive : it is a mass 
of white or light-coloured houses, covered with pantile roofs of low pitch, light red in 
colour, but here and there assuming a grey tint from long exposure to the weather, 
crowding up the steep hillside, and overlooked by the grey-brown walls of the citadel 
and the low tower of the cathedral. This mass of buildings is unbroken by spires or 
tall campaniles, only a few low domes interrupting the straight lines of the roofs. 
Beyond the buildings the surrounding slopes are covered in the smoother parts by 
vineyards, varied occasionally by olive, mulberry, and fig-trees; in the rougher by 
small Spanish chestnuts, scrub-oak, and pines. Sometimes the bare rock shows through 
the foliage, alternating bands of brown stone and darker shale, here and there strangely 




twisted. Tliis rock forms the rising ground at the back of the town, and it is 
prolonged to the north-west in a long, wooded hill which shelves down to the sea. 
From among the woods on this low promontory, half a league or so away, gleams 
;i pah'-givy mass of buildings, the Castle of Miramar; and at the back, not here 
only, but all along to the north, rises a higher line of hills, bedded limestone, bare 
and grey, the outer zone of the Julian Alps, a vast mass of hard cream-coloured 
limestone, which not only sweeps round the head of the Adriatic, but extends league 
after league along its eastern margin. Southward, beyond the Molo di Santa Teresa 
and the neighbouring inland slope, the Istrian hills rise, headland after headland, 
blue in the distance, above the glittering sea. 

This Castle of Miramar, with its central tower standing among dark woods and 
overlooking the water, conspicuous in every view from Trieste, is a silent memorial 
of a melancholy history. It was the favourite home of the ill-fated Maximilian, 
brother of the reigning Emperor of Austria, and his yet more ill-fated wife. Here 
for a few happy years he devoted himself to study and to patriotic work, until lie 
accepted, against his own desire, the position of Emperor of Mexico, and quitted 
Miramar to undertake the government of a semi-civilised and disunited nation. How 
the project failed is a matter of history. Betrayed by a traitor, he was shot at 
Queretaro by the order of President Juarez, the leader of his opponents ; a useless 
murder which ended tlte most tragic episode of our own times. 

Not many words are needed to describe the Istrian coast for several leagues 
south of Trieste. It shelves gently upwards, a land of rolling hills, of pale-grey barren 
rock, and low woods more grey than green. Here and there on the crest of a hill, 
here and there near the water-side, is a village or townlet, a group of light-coloured 
houses clustering round a campanile, which in aspect reproduces, though on a 
humbler scale, that of San Marco at Venice. Yet farther inland the hills rise higher, 
recalling the Jura in their outline, tame in colour, at any rate in the late autumn, 
but becoming blue in the distance. Capo d'Istria lies back in its bay, far away from 
the path of the larger steamers, but it can be reached by land or by a special boat 
from Trieste. The town stands on an island which is connected with the mainland 
by a causeway. This is a memorial of the French intrusion into this region: they 
blew up an old castle and constructed the road. The influence of Venice is very 
perceptible both in the plan and the architecture of the town, and some of the 
buildings are interesting. Capo d'Istria occupies the site of the Roman Justinopolis, 
and the Pallazzo Publico, a curious mediaeval building, is said to take the place of 
a temple of Cybele. Pirano (recalling the Roman Pareatium), a rather large town on 
its projecting headland, is made conspicuous by its church, a basilica built by Bishop 
Euphraeirn in the sixth century. Its old fortress is a memorial of more troublous 
times, though it is more recent than the date of that great historic sea-fight when the 


fleet of Venice destroyed that of the Emperor Frederick I. His sou Otho was 
among the prizes of victory. A more permanent memorial of this was the ring 
which the Pope sent to the Doge Ziani on his return to Venice, as a symhol that the 
city could claim the sovereignty of the Adriatic. 

Eovigno stands finely on a headland ; the great church overlooks the sea 
from its terraced site, and its tall campanile, in outline recalling that of San Marco, 
but crowned hy a statue, is seen for many a mile of the Adriatic. On the landward 
slope and on each side, the town, a clustered mass of square-lmilt, light-coloured 
houses, slopes downwards from this common centre. It is pleasantly wooded 
and terminates in two rows of limestone cliffs. As an additional protection, one 
long island and two islets, on one of which is a ruined church, rise from the 
sea. The limestone hills in the background are shaded with forests or planted 
with olives ; for the oil of this district is noted, and still more the wine, the 
latter being considered to be the best made in Istria. It is very dark in colour, 
and is stronger than most of the vin ordinaire of Italy. 

But the traveller will forget this monotony when he reaches Pola. a town 
hardly less remarkable for its situation than for its antiquities. Nature seems to 
have designed it for a great naval station ; such it was in Roman times, such it is 
at the present day. The sea TOUS up into the land, or the land runs out into the 
sea, for either statement is quite accurate or quite the reverse ; in short, there is 
here a land-locked bay entered by a comparatively narrow channel, and its southern 
side is formed by a peninsula which at one place is almost cut through. The town 
itself lies some little distance on the land side of this narrow neck, so that its 
harbour is safe from wave and storm and its quays and shipping can be guarded by 
forts which keep hostile fleets at a distance. It stretches along by the side of the 
bay, being built on the slope of a low limestone hill of the usual character, still more 
protected by a flat island, which has now been linked to the mainland by a causeway. 
By its modern development into an important naval arsenal, which has studded its 
shores with sheds and slips and factories and storehouses, its classic relics have been 
thrown a little into the shade, and its picturesqueness has been seriously diminished; 
but the vast mass of its amphitheatre cannot be hid, and looms up grim and grand 
in every view, the most conspicuous but by no means the only memorial of its 
Roman masters. 

Pola, in fact, is a place of great antiquity. No one knows when it was founded 
or by whom. A legend attributes it to colonists from Colchis who were in pursuit 
of Medea ; but this will not avail with modem sceptics. It was at any rate founded 
before the Romans conquered Istria, two centuries before the Christian era. Even 
then it was a town of importance, but later on it was almost destroyed by Julius 
Cfesar as a penalty for having taken the side of Pompey. Prosperity, however, returned 


77//V I'H "l' 


with Augustus, \vlio made it a Roman colony, and gave it the name of Pietas Julia, 
in honour of his daughter. It was a place of gloomy memories to the Constantino 
family. To Tola, Crispus, eldest son of Constantino the Great, was brought a 
captive, and there he perished by an unknown mode of death, one thing only being 
clear, that it was not a natural one. At Pola also, some years later, Gallus, the 
nephew of the emperor, was executed by the order of his cousin Constantino. 
In later times we read of the fleet of Belisarius lying at anchor in the harbour, 
waiting to carry the imperial army to Italy to do battle with the Goth. But 


in the Middle Ages its history is, like that of the other seaports on the 

Eastern Adriatic, by no means one of uninterrupted peace, though without episodes 

general interest, till at last, in the present century, it passed finally into 

handa of Austria. It is now a comparatively large town, but as it is near 

some tracts of marshy land, it is said to be a rather unhealthy one. 

Roman remains are not rare, and are sufficiently important to have attracted 
ch notice from antiquaries. Parts of the old town wall, with some of the gates, 
Just within the entrance from the harbour is a small triumphal arch,' 
Corinthian columns, and which bears the name of the Arco del Sergio. It 
a erected, as is stated by an inscription which still remains, by one Salvia Postuma 
ol a member of that family, as a memorial of her husband's safe return from a 








_>r,:i ////; i'i< "i'i 7,'/-;.s7 ( > r/-; MKDITKHH. i .v/v. i .v. 

successful campaign. On mil- side of the market-place are the remains of two small 

Unman temples. One of tliem, dedicated to Augustus and Rome, is still fairly perfect ; 

the other, of which only a fragment is left, is incorporated into the medieval Piila/./o 

1'uhlieo, a Venetian structure, and is said to have heeii dedicated to Diana. Hardly 

anvthing of the ancient theatre is now left, though it was standing so late as the 

beginning of the sixteenth century. Hut the glory of Pola is its amphitheatre, 

which is situated on the northern side of the town. This is remarkahle in more 

than one respect. It is a massive oval wall, pierced, as usual, with openings. This 

i> nnlv the shell of the ancient building. In the amphitheatres at Rome and at 

Verona much of the interior still remains, though part of the exterior has been 

quarried away. At Nismes and at Aries both the one and the other are still fairly 

perfect ; at Pola corridors, staircases, seats, have all disappeared, with the exception 

of a few shapeless masses of masonry which protrude from the sward, and only this 

enormous ring of arches still remains in solitary grandeur. This amphitheatre 

is built on sloping ground. Thus on the western side the wall is formed by a 

sub-basement supporting two tiers of arches, over which is a line of square openings ; 

but at the opposite side the building consists only of two storeys, the second tier of 

arches resting upon the ground. Externally, however, it is not quite an unbroken 

oval. There are four projections at equal distances, which appear to have been 

built to contain staircases ; as, however, these are constructed of a different stone 

from that of the main wall, it has been doubted whether they are part of the 

original design. It is supposed that the seats and other' internal fittings were of 

wood. This seems very probable, for otherwise it is nearly impossible to explain 

why the interior, where the masonry would be coarser and of less valuable materials, 

has been almost completely destroyed, while the exterior has been left generally 

in good preservation. Mr. Fergusson, in his "Handbook of Architecture," states 

that this amphitheatre belongs certainly "to the last days of the Western Empire," 

like that of Verona. " It presents all the features of the last stage of transition ; 

the order is still seen, or rather is everywhere suggested, but so concealed and kept 

subordinate that it does not at all interfere with the general effect. But for 

these faint traces we should possess in this amphitheatre one specimen entirely 

emancipated from incongruous Grecian forms ; but, as before remarked, Rome 

perished just on the threshold of the new style." 

The streets of the older part of Pola, as is usual in these East Adriatic towns, 
are narrow and picturesque; but there are no mediaeval buildings of special 
importance, though the Duomo, the old Franciscan Convent, and the Palazzo 
Publico, already mentioned, are not without interest. Perhaps the most striking 
feature about Pola, though certainly it does not make it more attractive to the 
artist, is the curious contrast between old and new, as the town opens out in 


emerging from the narrow channel by which the landlocked harbour (ample enough, 
it is said, to contain the whole British navy, and deep enough for the largest 
three-decker to lie nearly close in shore) is approached. "Extensive fortifications 
for its defence have been erected, numerous detached forts on all the heights 
around, and batteries on the island of the Scoglio Grande, which command the 
entrance, crossing their fire with others along the shore." Then down by the 
waterside, and 011 the Olive Island, are docks and cranes, and factories and shipyards, 
all the appliances of another Woolwich or Chatham ; but still conspicuous in every 
view is the great wall of the amphitheatre, a memorial of a dead and gone empire 
and of a pagan society. But if this proclaims that "the Galilean has conquered," 
Pola mutely asserts that there is not yet "peace upon earth." 

The Istrian coast, south of Pola, retains its irregular outline up to the long 
headland which terminates at Cape Promontore. Between this and the Dalmatian 
coast there is a wide interval, which gradually narrows towards the north. This, 
however, is very far from being one unbroken expanse of sea ; it is interrupted by a 
number of islands, two or three of them of large size, and is thus broken up into 
distinct gulfs and channels, which end at last in the almost landlocked Gulf of Fiume. 
Thus on the eastern side the scejiery is far more varied and more pretty than it is along 
the western shore of Istria. Still, as the same kind of rock prevails everywhere, the 
general outlines are very similar. Inland, to the east, the long line of the Velebich 
Mountains closes the view. These rise to a slightly greater height, and are rather 
bolder in outline than the hills of Istria, and sometimes become rather craggy 
towards the summits. On each side of the gulf the usual iminded limestone hills 
occupy the foreground, dotted here and there with pines ; and the islands are simply 
repetitions, outlying patches, of the same kind of scenery, the larger often being 
almost indistinguishable from the mainland. During the day the sails of the 
fishing boats often vary the foreground colours, orange and red, white and brown, 
arranged sometimes in quaint patterns ; but the evening tide is the witching hour 
in the Gulf of Fiume. Then a golden light suffuses the sky ; the Istria hills, as the 
sun disappears behind them, change into purple shadows, darkening in the valleys, 
though a glory lingers yet about their summits ; but on those of Croatia the bare 
cold limestone begins to glow like molten gold. On the calm sea the reflected 
tints of sky and land slowly chase one another across its surface, as bars of amber 
and of purple, or are mingled where it dimples into a delicate web of colour. Fiume 
itself stands on the eastern side of the head of the gulf, climbing up the flank of 
a line of hills which, here as everywhere, rises almost at once from the margin of the 
sea. The situation is pretty, and Fiume, like Trieste, consists of a new town and an 
old one, the former with spacious streets of modern mansions, the latter with narrow 
lanes and crowded houses. Fiume, however, is not nearly so important a place as 


Till: PICTURESQUE .W /;/>/'/'/: /,'/,'. I. YA'.l.Y. 

Trieste, and lias little to detain a traveller with the exception of a Roman arch, 
attributed to Claudius If., which exists in fair preservation in one of its narrow 
street-, and a ruined castle in the neighbourhood, unless lie should like to ascend 
the Ion,-,' flight of steps to the Wallfahrtskirche, or Pilgrimage Church, and see a copy 
of the picture of the Virgin which was painted by St. Luke, and the spot where 
the S'nifn Cnxti rested on its aerial flight from Nazareth to Loreto. 

The harbour of Fiume is a fine one, and the water is deep, so that the 
largest vessels can lie alongside the quay. This is a free port, so named, it 

appeared to me, on the 
principle of Bottom's 
dream. Two years 
since, as soon as the 
traveller landed, he 
fell into the clutches 
of a Customs officer, 
a genuine continental 
Customs officer too, 
one of " the good old 
times"; the species of 
animal that rummages 
the last corner of the 
tiniest hand-bag, that 
is suspicious of a 
sponge-hag and is 

puzzled by a tooth-brush; that smells contraband in a soap-box, and sniffs 
suspiciously at a half emptied medicine bottle. All this pantomime is gone through 
on the quay, about a quarter of a mile from the railway station, and with 
passengers landing from Dahnatia, also, one supposed, part of the Austrian dominions. 
Fiume, however, is in Hungary, so this may be one of the blessings of Home 
But suppose that the traveller, not intending to pass the night in the 
town, proceeds direct to the railway station and deposits his luggage there. Before 
he can depart it is subjected to another rummage by another set of officials no 
less intelligent! Fiurne ceases to be a free port in a few months; perhaps then 
it will become more like other places. At present one feels inclined to define its 
freedom as " that which most obstructs the traveller " 

T. a. BONXEY. 


Pirano, from the Sea. 




"i~\H., Land of Roses, what bulbul shall sing of thee ? " In plain prose, how 
describe the garden of Europe ? The Riviera ! Who knows, save he who has 
been there, the vague sense of delight which the very name recalls to the poor 
winter exile, banished by frost and cold from the fogs and bronchitis of our inhospitable 
northern island ? What visions of grey olives, shimmering silvery in the breeze on 
terraced mountain slopes ! What cataracts of Marshal Niels, falling in rich profusion 
over grey limestone walls ! What aloes and cactuses on what sun-smitten rocks ! 
What picnics in December beneath what cloudless blue skies ! Even now, as I sit 
here and write these lines on a mellow English June morning, with the white 
clematis and the tall irises looking lovingly in at my study window, I pause for a 
moment to give a sigh of regret for that beloved Antibes which I quitted six weeks 
ago. For to those who know and appreciate it best, the Riviera is something more 
than mere scenery and sunshine. It is life, it is health, it is strength, it is 
rejuvenescence. The return to it in autumn is as the renewal of youth. Its very 




faults arc dear to UN. lor they arc the delects (if its virtues. \Yo can put up with its 
dust when \vc ivincmhcr that dust moans sun and dry air; we can forgive its 
staring white roads when \vc rolled to ourselves that they depend upon almost 
unfailing tine weather and bright, clear skies, when northern Europe is wrapped in 

fog and cold and 

And what is 
this liiviera that 
we feeble folk who 
" winter in the 
south " know and 
adore so well ? 
Has everybody 
been there, or may 
one venture even 
now to paint it in 
words once more 
for the twentieth 
time ? Well, after 
all, how narrow 
is our concep- 
tion of " every - 
bodj* " ! I suppose 
one out of every 
thousand in- 
habitants of the 
British Isles, at a 
moderate estimate, 
has visited that 
smiling coast that 
spreads its en- 
trancing bays between Marseilles and Genoa; my description is, therefore, primarily 
for the nine hundred and ninety-nine who have not been there. And even the 
thousandth himself, if he knows his Cannes and his Mentone well, will not grudge 
me a reminiscence of those delicious gulfs and those charming headlands that 
must he indelibly photographed on his momorv. 

The name Hiviera is now practically Knglish. But in origin it is Genoese. 
To those seafaring folk, in the days of the Doges, the coasts to east and west of 
their m \ n princely city were known, naturally enough, as the liiviera di Levante 

Fisher Folk, Riviera. 

THE HI VI KB A. 267 

and the Riviera di Poiiente respectively, the shores of the rising and the setting 
sun. But on English lips the qualifying clause " di Poiiente " has gradually in USM-T 
dropped out altogether, and we speak nowadays of this favoured winter resort, by a 
somewhat illogical clipping, simply as "the Riviera." In our modern and specially 
British sense, then, the Riviera means the long and fertile strip of coast between the 
arid mountains and the Ligurian Sea, beginning at St. Raphael and ending at Genoa. 
Hyeres, it is true, is commonly reckoned of late among Riviera towns, but by courtesy 
only. It lies, strictly speaking, outside the charmed circle. One may say that the 
Riviera, properly so called, has its origin where the Esterel abuts upon the Gulf of 
Frejus, and extends as far as the outliers of the Alps skirt the Italian shore of the 

Now, the Riviera is just the point where the greatest central mountain system 
of all Europe topples over most directly into the wannest sea. And its best-known 
resorts, Nice, Monte Carlo, Mentone, occupy the precise place where the very axis 
of the ridge abuts at last on the shallow and basking Mediterranean. They are 
therefore as favourably situated with regard to the mountain wall as Pallanza or 
Riva, with the further advantage of a more southern position and of a neighbouring 
extent of sunny sea to warm them. The Maritime Alps cut off all northerly winds; 
while the hot air of the desert, tempered by passing over a wide expanse of 
Mediterranean waves, arrives on the coast as a delicious breeze, no longer dry and 
relaxing, but at once genial and refreshing. Add to these varied advantages the 
dryness of climate due to an essentially continental position (for the Mediterranean is 
after all a mere inland salt lake), and it is no wonder we all swear by the Riviera 
as the fairest and most pleasant of winter resorts. My own opinion, after trying the 
greater part of the places within six or seven days' journey of London, remains 
always unshaken, that Autibes, for climate, may fairly claim to rank as the best 
spot in Europe or round the shores of the Mediterranean. 

Not that I am by any means a bigoted Antipolitan. I have tried every other 
nook and cranny along that delightful coast, from Carqueyranne to Cornigliano, and 
I will allow that every one of them has for certain purposes its own special advantages. 
All, all are charming. Indeed, the Riviera is to my mind one long feast of delights. 
From the moment the railway strikes the sea near Frejus the traveller feels he can 
only do justice to the scenery on either side by looking both ways at once, and so 
"contracting a squint," like the sausage-seller in Aristophanes. Those glorious peaks 
of the Esterel alone would encourage the most prosaic to " drop into poetry," as 
readily as Mr. Silas Wegg himself in the mansion of the Boffins. How am I to 
describe them, those rearing masses of rock, huge tors of red porphyry, rising sheer 
into the air with their roseate crags from a deep green base of Mediterranean 
pinewood ? When the sun strikes their sides, they glow like fire. There they lie 



in their beauty, like a huge rock pushed out into the sea, the advance-guard of the 
Alps, unlirokcii save by the one high-road that runs boldly through their unpeopled 
midst, and by the timider railway that, tearing to tunnel their solid porphyry depths, 
winds cautiously round their base by the craggy sea-shore, and so gives us as 
we puss endless lovely glimpses into sapphire bays with red cliffs and rocky 
lighthouse-crowned islets. On the whole, I consider the Esterel, as scenery alone, 
the loveliest "bit" on the whole Kiviera; though wanting in human additions, as 
nature it is the best, the most varied in outlet, the most vivid in colouring. 

Turning the corner by Agay, you come suddenly, all unawares, on the blue 
bay of Cannes, or rather on the Golfe de la Napoule, whose very name betrays 
unintentionally the intense newness and unexpectedness of all this populous 
coast, this " little England beyond France " that has grown up apace round Lord 
Brougham's villa on the shore by the mouth of the Siagne. For when the bay 
beside the Esterel received its present name, La Napoule, not Cannes, was still the 
piincipal village on its bank. Nowadays, people drive over on a spare afternoon from 
the crowded fashionable town to the slumbrous little hamlet ; but in olden days 
La Napoule was a busy local market when Cannes was nothing more than a 
petty hamlet of Provencal fishermen. 

The Golfe de la Napoule ends at the Croisette of Cannes, a long, low promontory 
carried out into the sea by a submarine bank, whose farthest points re-emerge as the 
two lies Lerins, Ste. Marguerite and St. Honorat. Their names are famous in history. 
A little steamer plies from Cannes to "the Islands," as everybody calls them locally; 

./ Forest Kixiii iifiir .-liit/'/vs. 










77/1.- Estcrcl Afomitaiiis in Cannes. 

and the trip, in calm 

weather, if the Alps are 

pleased to shine out, is 

a pleasant and instructive 

one. Ste. Marguerite lies 

somewhat the nearer of 

the two, a pretty little 

islet, covered with a thick 

growth of maritime pines, 

and celebrated as the prison of that mysterious being, the Man with the Iron 

Mask, who has given rise to so much foolish and fruitless speculation. Near 

the landing-place stands the Fort, perched on a high cliff and looking across to 

the Croisette. Uninteresting in itself, this old fortification is much visited by 

wonder-loving tourists for the sake of its famous prisoner, whose memory still 

haunts the narrow terrace corridor, where he paced up and down for seventeen 

years of unrelieved captivity. 

St. Honorat stands farther out to sea than its sister island, and, though lower and 
flatter, is in some ways more picturesque, in virtue of its massive mediaeval monastery 
and its historical associations. In the early middle ages, when communications 
were still largely carried on by water, the convent of the lies Lorins enjoyed much 
reputation as a favourite stopping-place, one might almost say hotel, for pilgrims 
to or from Rome ; and most of the early British Christians in their continental 
wanderings found shelter at one time or another under its hospitable roof. St. 
Augustine stopped here on his way to Canterbury; St. Patrick took the convent on 
his road from Ireland; Salvian wrote within its walls his dismal jeremiad; Vincent 
de Lerins composed in it his " Pilgrim's Guide." The sombre vaults of the ancient 
cloister still bear witness by their astonishingly thick and solid masonry to their 
double use as monastery and as place of refuge from the " Saracens," the Barbary 


THE PI("n'i;i-:si t )( r r: MEDITERRANEAN. 


corsairs of flic ninth, 
tenth, and eleventh 
centuries. Indeed, 
Paynim fleets plundered 
the place more than 
once, and massacred the 
monks in cold blood. 

Of Cannes itself, 

marvellous product of this gad-about and commercial age, how shall the truthful 
chronicler speak with becoming respect and becoming dignity ? For Cannes has 
its faults. Truly a wonderful place is that cosmopolitan winter resort. Rococo 
chateaux, glorious gardens of palin-trees, imitation Moorish villas, wooden chalets 
from the scene-painter's ideal Switzerland, Elizabethan mansions stuck in Italian 
grounds, lovely groves of mimosa, eucalyptus, and judas-trees, all mingle together 
in so strange and incongruous a picture that one knows not when to laugh, 
when to weep, when to admire, when to cry " Out on it ! " Imagine a 
conglomeration of two or three white-faced Parisian streets, interspersed with little 
bits of England, of Brussels, of Algiers, of Constantinople, of Pekin, of Bern, of 
Nuremberg, of Venice, the Brighton Pavilion, and the Italian Exhibition, jumbled 
side by side on a green Provencal hillside before a beautiful bay, and you get modern 
Cannes; a Babel set in Paradise; a sort of lonlevardier Bond Street, with a view 
across blue waves to the serrated peaks of the ever lovely Esterel. Kay; try as it 
will, Cannes cannot help being beautiful. Nature has done so much for it that art 
itself, the debased French art of the Empire and the Republic, can never for one 
moment succeed in making it ugly; though I am bound to admit it has striven as 
hard as it knew for that laudable object. But Cannes is Cannes still, in spite of 
Grand Dukes and landscape gardeners and architects. And the Old Town, at least, is 
yel wholly unspoilt by the speculative builder. Almost every Riviera watering-place 
lias such an old-world nucleus or kernel of its own, the quaint fisher village 
of ancient days, round which the meretricious modern villas have clustered, one by 
on,-, in irregular succession. At Cannes the Old Town is even more conspicuous 
than elsewhere; for it clambers up the steep sides of a little seaward hillock, 
] '. v tll( ' tmv '' r "I" sin eleventh century church, and is as picturesque, as grey, 
U dirty, as mosl other haunts of the hardy Provencal fisherman. Strange, too, to 

'/'///; RIVIERA. 


see how the two streams of life flow on ever side by side, jet ever unmingled. 
The Cannes of the fishermen is to this day as unvaried as if the new cosmopolitan 
winter resort had never grown up, with its Anglo-Russian airs and graces, its German- 
American fri- 
volities, round 
that unpro- 
mising centre. 
The Rue 
d'Antibes is 
the principal 
street of the 
newer and 
richer Cannes. 
If we follow 
it out into 
the country 
by its straight French 
boulevard it leads us at 
last to the funny old 
border city from which 
it still takes its unpre- 
tending name. Antibes 
itself belongs to that 
very first crop of civi- 
lised Provencal towns 
which owe their origin 
to the sturdy old Pho- 
csean colonists, for whom 
the curious may consult 
what I have written in 
this work already of Nice 
and Marseilles. It is a 
Greek city by descent, 
the Antipolis which faced 
and defended the har- 
bour of Nicrea ; and 

for picturesqueness and beauty it has not its equal on the whole picturesque 
and beautiful Riviera. Everybody who has travelled by the "Paris, Lyon, 





.Mediterranee " knows well the exquisite view of the mole :md harbour as seen in 
passing from the railway. I5ut that charming glimpse, quaint and varied as it is, 
gives hy no means a full idea of the ancient Phoca'an city. The town stands still 
surrounded by its bristling fortifications, the work of Taliban, pierced by narrow 
gates in their thickness, and topped with noble ramparts. The Fort Carre that 
crowns the seaward promontory, the rocky islets, and the two stone breakwaters of 
the port (a small-scale Genoa), all add to the striking effect of the situation and 
prospect. "Within, the place is as quaint and curious as without : a labyrinth of 
narrow street--, poor in memorials of Antipolis, but rich in lloman remains, including 


that famous and pathetic inscription to the boy Septentrio, QVI ANTIPOLI IN THEATRO 
BIDVO SAI.I AVIT ET 1'LAcviT. The last three words, borrowed from this provincial 
tombstone, have become proverbial of the short-lived glory of the actor's art. 

The general aspect of Autibes town, however, is at present mediaeval, or even 
seventeenth century. A flavour as of Louis Quatorze pervades the whole city, with 
its obtrusive military air of a border fortress ; for, of course, while the Var still 
formed the frontier between France and Italy, Antibes ranked necessarily as a 
strategic post of immense importance ; and at the present day, in our new recrudescence 
' military barbarism, great barracks surround the fortifications with fresh white- 
washed walls, and the -Hun! Deusse ! " of the noisy French drill-sergeant resounds 
day long from the exercise-ground by the railway station. Antibes itself is 
therefore by no means a place to stop at ; it is the Cap d' Antibes close by that 





attracts now every year an increasing influx of peaceful and cultivated visitors. The 
walks and drives are charming ; the pine-woods, carpeted with wild anemones, are 
a dream of delight ; and the view from the Lighthouse Hill behind the town is 

one of the loveliest and 
most varied on the whole 
round Mediterranean. 

But I must not linger 
here over the beauties of 
the Cap d' Antilles, but 
must be pushing onwards 
towards Monaco and Monte 

It is a wonderful spot, 
this little principality of 
Monaco, hemmed in be- 
tween the high mountains 
and the assail- 
ing sea, and long 
hermetically cut 

Roquclirmic, from flic Coast. 

off from all its more powerful and commercial neighbours. Between the palm-lined 

Nice and the grand amphitheatre of mountains that shuts in Mentone 

semicircle of rearing peaks, one rugged buttress, the last Ion, 

su.,,d,n, spur of the great Alpine axis, runs boldly out to seaward, and ends in the 

ky headland of the Tfite de Chien that overhangs Monte Carlo. Till very 


lately no road ever succeeded in turning the foot of that precipitous promontory : 
the famous Corniclio route runs along a ledge high up its beetling side, past the 
massive Roman ruin of Turhia, and looks down from a height of fifteen hundred 
feet upon the palace of Monaco. This mountain bulwark of the Turbia long formed 
the real boundary-line between ancient Gaul and Liguria ; and on its very summit, 
where the narrow Roman road wound along the steep pass now widened into the 
magnificent highway of the Corniche, Augustus built a solid square monument to 
mark the limit between the Province and the Italian soil, as well as to overawe the 
mountaineers of this turbulent region. A round mediaeval tower, at present likewise 
in ruins, crowns the Roman work. Here the Alps end abruptly. The rock of Monaco 
at the base is their last ineffectual seaward protest. 

And what a rock it is, that quaint ridge of land, crowned by the strange capital 
of that miniature principality ! Figure to yourself a huge whale petrified, as he 
basks there on the shoals, his back rising some two hundred feet from the water's 
edge, his head to the sea, and his tail just touching the mainland, and you have 
a rough mental picture of the Rock of Monaco. It is, in fact, an isolated hillock, 
jutting into the Mediterranean at the foot of the Maritime Alps (a final reminder, 
as it were, of their dying dignity), and united to the Undercliff only by a narrow 
isthmus at the foot of the crag which bears the medieval bastions of the Prince's 
palace. As you look down on it from above from the heights of the Corniche, I have 
no hesitation in saying it forms the most picturesque town site in all Europe. On 
every side, save seaward, huge mountains gird it round; while towards the smiling 
blue Mediterranean itself the great rock runs outward, bathed by tiny white breakers 
in every part, except where the low isthmus links it to the shore ; and with a good 
field-glass you can see down in a bird's-eye view into every street and courtyard of 
the clean little capital. The red-tiled houses, the white palace with its orderly 
gardens and quadrangles, the round lunettes of the old wall, the steep cobbled 
mule-path which mounts the rock from the modern railway-station, all lie spread 
out before one like a pictorial map, painted iu the bright blue of Mediterranean 
seas, the dazzling grey of Mediterranean sunshine, and the brilliant russet of 
Mediterranean roofs. 

There can be 110 question at all that Monte Carlo even now, with all its 
gew-gaw additions, is very beautiful: 110 Haussmaim could spoil so much loveliness 
of position ; and even the new town itself, which grows apace each time I revisit it, 
has a picturesqueness of hardy arch, bold rock, well-perched villa, which redeems it 
to a great extent from any rash charge of common vulgarity. All looks like a scene 
in a theatre at pantomime time, not like a prosaic bit of this work-a-day world of 
ours. Around us is the blue Mediterranean, broken into a hundred petty sapphire 
bays. Back of us rise tier after tier of Maritime Alps, their huge summits clouded 


Till-: PICTl'llK^QliE MEDI TEllllAXEAN. 

in ;t lleecv mist. 'I'o the left stands tlie white rock of Monaco; to the right, the 
green Italian shore, fading away into the purple mountains that guard the Gulf of 
(Jeiioa. Lovely l>y iiitture, the ininiediiito neighbourhood of the Casino has heen 
made in some ways still more lovely by art. From the water's edge, terraces of 
tropical vegetation succeed one another in gradual steps towards the grand facade 
nf the gambling-house; clusters of palms and aloes, their base girt by exotic ilowers, 
are thrust cunningly into the foreground of every point in the view, so that you see 
the hay and the mountains through the artistic vistas thus deftly arranged in the 
\ei\ splits where a painter's fancy would have set them. You look across to Monaco 
past a clump of drooping date-branches; you catch a glimpse of Bordighera through 
a framework of spreading dracsenas and quaintly symmetrical fan-palms. 

Once more under way, and this time on foot. For the road from Monte 
Carlo to Mcntone is almost as lovely in its way as that from Nice to Monte Carlo. 
It runs at first among the ever-increasing villas and hotels of the capital of Chance, 
and past that sumptuous church, built from the gains of the table, which native 
wit has not inaptly christened "Notre Dame de la Roulette." There is one 
point of view of Monaco and its bay, on the slopes of the Cap Martin, not far from 
Roquebnme, so beautiful that though I have seen it, I suppose, a hundred times or 
more, I can never come upon it to this day without giving vent to an involuntary 
cry of surprise and admiration. 

Roquebrune itself, which was an Italian Roccabruua when I first knew it, has 

W ' 


a quaint situation of its own, and a quaint story connected with it. Brown as its 
o\\n rocks, the tumbled little village stands oddly jumbled in and out among huge 
masses of pudding-stone, which must have fallen at some time or other in headlong 
confusion from the scarred face of the neighbouring hillside. From the Corniche 
road it is still quite easy to recognise the bare pitch on the mountain slope whence 
the landslip detached itself, and to trace its path down the hill to its existing 
position. But local legend goes a little farther than that: it asks us to believe that 
the rock fell as we see it ////// tlte lioiises on top; in other words, that the village was 
built before the catastrophe took place, and that it glided down piecemeal into the 
tossed-about form it at present presents to us. Be this as it may, and the story 
makes some demand on the hearer's credulity, it is certain that the houses now 
occupy most picturesque positions : here perched by twos and threes on broken 
masses of conglomerate, there wedged in between two great walls of beetling cliff, 
and yonder again hanging for dear life to some slender foothold on the precipitous 

We reach the summit of the pass. The Bay of Monaco is separated from the 
Bay of Mentone by the long, low headland of Cap Martin, covered with olive groves 
and scrubby maritime pines. As one turns the corner from Eoquebrune by the col 
round the cliff, there bursts suddenly upon the view one of the loveliest prospects 
to be beheld from the Corniche. At our feet, embowered among green lemons and 
orange trees, Meutone half hides itself behind its villas and its gardens. In the 
middle distance the old church with its tall Italian cainpanile stands out against 
the blue peaks of that magnificent amphitheatre. Beyond, again, a narrow gorge 
marks the site of the Pont St. Louis and the Italian frontier. Farther eastward 
the red rocks merge half indistinctly into the point of La Mortola, with Mr. 
Hanbury's famous garden; then come the cliffs and fortifications of Ventimiglia, 
gleaming white in the sun ; and last of all, the purple hills that hem in San Eemo. 
is an appropriate approach to a most lovely spot; for Mentone ranks high for 
beauty, even among her bevy of fair sisters on the Ligurian sea-board. 

Yes, Mentoue is beautiful, most undeniably beautiful; and for walks and drives 

perhaps it may bear away the palm from all rivals on that enchanted and enchanting 

Riviera. Five separate valleys, each carved out by its own torrent, with dry winter 

bed, converge upon the sea within the town precincts. Four principal rocky ridges 

divide these valleys with their chine-like backbone, besides numberless minor spurs 

branching laterally Inland. Hach valley is threaded by a well-made carriage-roa.l. 

I each dividing ridge is climbed by a bridle-path and footway. The consequence 

l't the walks and drives at Mentone are never exhausted, and excursions among 

< -night occupy the industrious pedestrian for many successive winters. What 

they are. to,, those great bare needles and pinnacles of rock, worn into jagged 



Savona, from Ablrissola. 

peaks and points by the ceaseless 
rain of ages, and looking down 
from their inaccessible tops with 
glittering scorn upon the green 
lemon groves beneath them ! 

The next town on the line, 
Bordighera, is better known to 

the world at large as a Bivieran winter resort, though of a milder and quieter type, 
I do not say than Nice or Cannes, but than Mentone or San Bemo. Bordighera, 
indeed, has just reached that pleasant intermediate stage in the evolution of a 
Bivieran watering-place when all positive needs of the northern stranger are amply 
supplied, while crowds and fashionable amusements have not yet begun to invade its 
primitive simplicity. The walks and drives on every side are charming ; the hotels 
are comfortable, and the prices are still by no means prohibitive. 

San Bemo comes next in order of the cosmopolitan winter resorts : San Bemo, 
thickly strewn with spectacled Germans, like leaves in Vallombrosa, since the 
Emperor Frederick chose the place for his last despairing rally. The Teuton finds 
himself more at home, indeed, across the friendly Italian border than in hostile 
France ; and the St. Gotthard gives him easy access by a pleasant route to these 
nearer Ligurian towns, so that the Fatherland lias now almost annexed San Bemo, 
as England has annexed Cannes, and America Nice and Cimiez. Built in the evil 
days of the Middle Ages, when every house was a fortress and eveiy breeze bore a 
Saracen, San Bemo presents to-day a picturesque labyrinth of streets, lanes, vaitlts, 
and alleys, only to be si;rpassed in the qxiaint neighbouring village of Taggia. This 


'I' lib] PICTURESQUE MEDt '/'/; /,'/,'. I NEAN. 

is tin- heart of the earthquake re-ion, too; and to protect themselves against that 
frequent and unwelcome visitor, whose mark may he seen on half the walls iu the 
outskirts, the inhabitants of San l!emo have strengl hened their houses by a system 
,,f arelies thrown at varying heights across the tangled paths, which recalls 
Algiers or Tunis. From certain points of view, and especially from the east side, 
San lu-nio thus resembles a huge pyramid of solid masonry, or a monstrous pagoda 

hewn out by giant hands 
from a block of white free- 
stone. As Dickens well 
worded it, one seems to pass 
through the town by going 
perpetually from cellar to 
cellar. A romantic railway 
skirts the coast from San 
Rerno to Alassio and Savona. 
It forms one long succession 
of tunnels, interspersed with 
frequent breathing spaces be- 
side lovely bays, "the pea- 
cock's neck in hue," as the 
Laureate sings of them. One 
town after another sweeps 
gradually into view round 
the corner of a promon- 
tory, a white mass of houses 
crowning some steep point 
of rock, of which Alassio 
alone has as yet any pre- 
tensions to be considered a 
home for northern visitors. 

Si von a an Italian cross-country line (give to such a wide berth, O ye 

wise ones !) runs inland to Turin, through a beautiful mountain district thick with 

flowers in the spring-time, and forms the shortest route home from the Ligurian 

Bsorts // the Mont Cenis tunnel. But he that is well advised will take rather 

lirect line straight on to Genoa, and thence to the Italian lakes, which break 

uldenness of the change from a basking Bivieran April to the wintry depths 

J in Kngland or Scotland. A week at Lugano or Locarno lets one down 

Thence to Lucerne and Paris is an easy transition. 




Abercrombie, General, death at Alexandria, 

I. 208 

Ablona. Bay of, I. 258 
Aboukir, and Nelson's victory, I. '220222 
About, Edinond, on the importance of 

Marseilles, I. 46 
Abruzzi Mountains, II. 219 
Abu-Abul-Hajez, builder of Moorish Castle, 

Gibraltar, I. 14 
Abydos, Castle of, II. 27 
Abvla, Phoenician name of Ceuta, I. 22 
Achilles, Tomb of, II. 2:i 
Aci Castello, II. 198 
Aci Reale, II. 198 
Acis and Galatea, II. 198 
Acre, appearance from the sea, I. 101 ; im- 
portance and historical reminiscences of, 

101, 102 

Acro-Corinthus, I. 167171 
Acropolis of Palasotyrus, I. 108 
Adramyti, Bay of, II. 18 
Adramyttiumj II. 18 

Adriatic, Eastern (see Dalmatia and Albania) 
., Northern (nee Venice, Trieste, 

Pola, etc.) 
Western (sec Ravenna, Rimini, 

Ancona, Brindisi, etc.) 
yEgos-Potamos, The, and the victory of 

Lysander, II. 28 

-(Eneas and the games at Trapani. II. 211 
^Eolians, The, and Smyrna, I. 26 
JEsculapius, Temple at Spalato dedicated 

to, 1. 250 
Africa, ''Crystal atmosphere" of, I. (> '. 

First expedition to North, 1 50 
Afsia, II. 3(1 
Agate Cape, II. 119 
Agay. II. 208 
Agesidamus, II. 92 
Agnone, II. 199 
Aiclin, Railway to, I. 39 
Aitone, Forest of, I. 79 
Ajaccio, I. 70, 82; the "Pearl of the 

Mediterranean," 82 ; Houses and beauty 

of. 83 

Ajax, Tumulus of, II. 21! 
Alameda Gardens, Gibraltar, I. II 
Alaschehr, I. 39 
Alassio, II. 280 
Alban. Mont. II. 10 
Albania, I. 258 
Albertacce, I. 77 
Alcantara, Valley of the, II. 198 
Alcudia, Bay of, I. 206 
Alexander the Coppersmith, I. 43 
Alexander the Great, and Ephesus, I. 39, 

89 : at Tyre, 100 ; founding Alexandria, 

Alexander of Macedon, rebuilds Smyrna, 

I. 26, 90 
Alexandretta, I. Ill 

Alexandria, I. 23. 31, 46: appearance from 
the sea, 207 ; historical interest, 208 ; 
Alexander's choice of the site, 209 ; 
harliour, 210: main street, 211; Grand 
Square. 212 ; Palace of Ras-et-Teen, 213; 
view from Mount Caffarelli and the 
Delta, 214: Pompey'sPillar,2l5; Library, 
216; the Serapeum, cemeteries, mosques, 
Coptic convent, and historic landmarks, 
217, 218: defeat of Antony, and Na- 
poleon, 219; Ramleh, 219; Temple of 
Arsenoe, 219: Aboukir Bay and Nelson, 
221, 222; Rosetta. Haroun Al Rashid, 
and the English expedition of 1807, 
223; fertility of the Delta, 225; Cairo 
and the rising of the Nile, 226 : Damietta, 
227 : Port Said, 227. 228 : ruins of Pelu- 
sium, 228 ; Suez Canal and M. de 
Lcsseps, 229 231 

Algeciras. I. 3, 19 

Algeria, I. 47 

Algiers, 1. 47, 68 ; "a pearl set in emeralds." 

II. 161 ; the approach to, and the 
Djurjura, 161 ; the Sahel, Atlas, and the 
ancient and modern towns, 162 ; cathe- 
dral and mosque, 163 ; tortuous plan of 


the new town, 164, 165; Mustapha 
Snperieur, and English colony, 166, 167; 
a Moorish villa. 168 ; view from El Biur, 
Arab cemetery, and idolatry , 1 70 ; super- 
stitions and climate, 171; 190 

Alhendin, II. 121 

AH, Mehemet, I. 210; his works in Alex- 
andria. 212, 213 ; destroys English troops 
at Rosetta, 223 

Almeria, II. 118, 119 

Almissa, I. 254 

Aloni, II. 30 

Alps, The, II. 6 ; the Julian, 258, 267, 269, 

Alpujarras, The, II. 106, 118 

Altinum, II. 251 

Amalfi. II. 236, 238, 239 

Amandolea, II. 94 

Amazons, The, said to have founded Smyrna, 
I. 26 ; defeated bv Bacchus and Hercules, 

Amphitheatre of El Djem. I. 155 ; at Rome, 
Verona, Nismes, and Arks, II. 262 

Amru, I. 89, 208 

Amsterdam and its canals, II. 241 

Amurath besieges Smyrna, I. 27 

Anacapri, II. 234 

Anchises, II. 211 

Ancona. Appearance of. II. 71, 75; history, 
75, 70 ; arch of Clement, Monte Concro, 
the lazaretto, Trajan's arch, and the 
Diiomo, 76, 77 

Andre, St., II. 12. 16 

Andromeda, I. 95 

Angelo, Michael, and the marble quarries at 
Seravezza, II. 175 

Anglicanism and Rome, II. 251, note 

Ansedonia, II. 1H7 

Anthony, St., of Padua, preaching to the 
fishes at Rimini, II. 73 

Antihes, I. 47 ; II. 205, 267, 271, 272 

Antigonus, his rule at Smyrna, I. 26 ; II. 19 

Antiochus. II. 27 

Antioco, S.. II. 159 

Antipolis, II. 271 

Antivari. I. 257 

Antonines. The. and North Africa, I. 142 

Antonio, St., I. 279 

Antony, Mark, and Ephesus, I. 39 ; at the 
Temple of Diana, 43 ; defeated by Oc- 
tavius at Mustapha Pacha, 219 

Apes' Hill, English designation of Ceuta, 

I. 22 

Apollinaris the martyr, St., relics at Ra- 
venna. II. 66 

Apollo, birth at Ephesus, I. 39 : temple of, 
175 ; temple at Tenedos, II. 21 

Aqua3 Sextiai, or Aix, Roman colony on 
the site of Marseilles, I. 58 

Aqueduct at Tell Kadi, I. 106 ; at Carthage, 
150, 151 

Aquileia, II. 253, 255, 256 

Arabic legend and the Moorish Castle, Gib- 
raltar, I. 13 

Arago, M., adventure at Seller, I. 271 

Aragon, Kings of, Palace of the, at Barce- 
lona, I. 185, 198 

Aratus and Acro-Corinthus, I. 168 

Arbiter, Petronius, I. 67 

Archipelago, Islands of the, I. 45 

Architecture of Sialato, I. 219 ; Ravenna, 

II. 57 

Argostoli, II. 142 
Arfk, I. 43 

Aristophanes, and the sausage-seller. II. 267 

Aries, I. 58 

Armenians, The, and their trading prac- 
tices, I. 30 

Arsenoe, Temple of, and the story related 
by Catullus, I. 219 

Aryan Achfeans, I. 56 

Aryan and Semite struggle against Chris- 
tianity and Mohammedanism, I. A 

Asco, Valley of, I. 78 

Ashmunazar, Sarcophagus of, I. 109 

Askelon, I. 91, 92 ; ancient history of, 94 

Aspromoiite, II, 87 

Assos, II. 32 

Athana-iius at Alexandria, I. 208 

Athens, I. 46, 163: lepers in, 165 

Athlit, Ruins of, I. 98 

Athos, Mount, II. 22 

Atlantic, Ideas of ancient Greeks respecting 

the. I. 2, 6 
Atlas, Mount, II. 162 
Atmosphere, clearness at Smyrna, I. 23 
Attard, " village of roses," II. 51 
Attila, II. 252 
Augusta, II. 199 
Augustine, St., and the angel, II. 188; at 

St. Honorat. 269 
Augustus, and Ravenna, II. 56 ; and Tur- 

bia, 275 
Austria, acquires Dalmatia, I. 238 ; and 

Trieste, II. 256 
Autran, Joseph, I. 67 
Avenza. II. 174 
Avernus, II. 229 
Avignon. I. 47 
Ayasolook, Turkish name for Ephesus, I. 

39, 43 

Baba Bournou, 11. 19 

Bal>el of tongue* at Smyrna, I. 26 

liab-el-Sok, gate of the market-place at 
Tangier, 1. 6 

Bacchus, and the Amazons of Ephesus, i. 

Baia?, II. 226, 230 

Baindeh, I. 43 

Biijaziil I.. II. 29 

Baldwin, King of Jerusalem, I. 89, 94, 102 

Balearic Islands, I. 259280 

Balzac, witty remark on dinners in Paris, 
I. 203 

Balzan, II. 51 

Barbaroux, I. 67 

Barcelona, I. 17, 48, 68; eulogy of Cer- 
vantes, the promenades and the people, 
181 ; funerals, and the flower-market, 
182; streets, Rambla. and cathedral, 183; 
Palais de Justice, and Parliament House, 
184 ; Palace of the kings of Aragon, 185; 
museum, irk, and monuments to Prim 
and Columbus, 186; bird's-eye view, 
Fort of Montjuich, Mont Tibidaho, 187; 
cemetery and mode of burial, 188; fes- 
tival of All Saints, 189 ; Catalonia, and 
the church of Santa Maria del Mar, 190 ; 
organ in cathedral, and the suburbs. 192; 
Gracia, 192, 193; Sarria, 13; Barce- 
loneta, 194 ; Academy of Arts, schools, 
music, the University, and workmen's 
clubs, 195 : Archa-ologieal Society, prim- 
ary education, and places of amusement, 
196; history of, 198: trade, healthful 
properties, and charitable institutions, 
199; churches, convents, electric lighting, 
population, and Protestantism, 200 ; 
democracy, and holidays of, 201 : Mari- 
olatry, 202; Caballaro, 203: climate. 
203 ; "hotels, 204 ; good looks of the men 
and women, the police, 205; progressive 
tendencies, the post-office and passports, 

Barco, Hamilcar, founder of Barcelona, I. 

Ban, II. 79 

Barletta, II. 79 

Barral des Baux, I. 67 

Barthelemy, I. 67 

Bashier, I. 43 

Bastia, Corsica, I. 70 

Baths of Barcelona, I. 204: of Cleopatra, 
218; of Caratraca, II. 106 

Batrun, the ancient Botrys, I. 114 

Bavella. Forest of. I. 86 

Bay of Biscay, I. 1 

Bayazid, besieges Smyrna, I. 27 

Bazaars at Tunis, I. 147 

Bedouins, at Smyrna, I. 24, 42 

Beirut, viewed from the sea, I. 110; its 



.;-., tiadc. ]ni"ii'ii-. school-., ill.. 

lln, I'll 
II. 1 1. 1. I'll 

llcU-ium ..I the Kl-t." Till'. 1. '.'IS 

Bdterius, 1. II-'; II. 2iio 

Belief. l.e. II. I'J 

Belus. River. I. in-; 

ll<-l/n: nelir. and till' plague at 

Marseille.. I. 1*1. II] 
Helmet. 111'.. ii)iillinll of I 'orsica. I. I. I 

Bcntinck. Lord W.. and hisuttuck mi Genoa, 

1. 121 

Bcrcnger. 1. (17 

Itciciiice. ami tlif Temple of Ai-senoe, I. 219 
Ifi-rn.-ir.lo Kuv dc Meya. I. 202 
Berikn Ha\. il. I'll 

, I 'a]N-, I. 7 I 

Hiivhkiii". I. N.; 

Bighi. II. .-Hi 

Hr-ccglie. II. 7:i 

Bi/ertn, a miiiiatiiri- Vcnii-.-. I. 1C!: canal 

works, anil laki-. ill 
Hla,-kS,-a. II. 26. :il 
lilak.-. Admiral, attack mi I'.irt.i Farina, I. 


HoalHlil. la>t king of Granada. II. 121 
Boccacci.'. an. I tin- church of St. Lorenzo. 

Naple>. II. 225 
Bocognano. I. S'l 

Boay-ooQHnning stone," at As-os, II. :;_> 

Hone.' I. 151 

Bonifacio. Corsica. I. 7H: tlir ]H'.'iilc. houses. 

'.-., 87 

Hi.ninalali, Valley i.f. I. -.':! 
Bora. Tin-, in Da'lmatia, I. 235 
Bordighera. II. 27! 
Boron, Mont, II. (i 
Bosphorus. Origin of the. II. 31 
Bouchard, M.. anil the Egyptian stone at 

Kosctta. I. 221 

Hourlioiis. The. ami Cotrone. II. 100 
Brando, tlrotto lit'. I. 7:i 
Braz/a. I. 211 
Bridge of Sighs. II. 247 
Brigands, at F.phesns. I. 43: of Brando. 7:i - 

near Sartene. s ; of Calaliria, II. s:! 
Brindisi. II. ; 
Uritain. anil Tangier. I. 4 ; and the ncquisi- 

tion of Gibraltar. IS; traile in the Levant. 

in. .'II : its eomtraotion of railways in the 
41; occupation of Minorca, anil 

execution of Admiral Byng, --'7.-| 
Browning, Rohert, and Gibraltar, I. 6 
Brueys. Admiral, defeated by Nelson at 

Aboukir Bay, I. 21 
Bua. I. 24.) 

Buena Vistii, Gibraltar. I. 12, 19 
lilllla Regia. I. I.)l 
Bull- tights at Barcelona, I. 196 ; at Malaga 

II. 11.) 

Burgundians. The. I. 5S 
Biu-raola. II. .VI 

Byng, Admiral, Execution of. I. 275 
Byng. Rear-Admiral, and the siege of (Jib. 

raltar, I. IS 
Byron. Lord, swimming the HellesiKint II 

-'S: at Kavenna. 5S 
Hy//uitine Empire, and Smyrna. I. 26 

Cabo de Bullon'-s. Swinish name of Ceuta. 

. I. 251). -J7I 

Cadiz Bay. [.6 

Caaarea. 1. 'Hi ; buildings and ruins at, 97 

Cafe at Gibraltar. I. In 

Cagliari. I. 47: S. Avendracio. II. 149; 
Buon Cammino. churches and festivals. 
150; amphitheatre, 131; festa-davs l.V 

Cairo, I. 225 rising O f the Nile. 22r,' 

Cala Dueii-a. II. 38 

Calaliria. exit of jieople to America, II. 81 
simplicity of the jieoplc. and extermina- 
tion of brigands. 8:; : liram al, one. Tiriolo 
and the forest*, 83; cruelty t.. the )>eople, 
; tale of the baron and the offendiii" 
clergy. Wi ; Aspromonte and Garibaldi, 
Scylla and Charybdis, modern Scilla and 
earthquake of 1783, 87, 88; baronial 
castles and churches. 89 ; Messina, and 
Gerace, 90. Ill ; Sybaris. ,,-> . |(,,,. ella 
I"mca and Amandolea, 94; Catanzaro 
96 W: Cotrone and Taranto, 99 104 

Calawma. I. - 

Calpe, Rock of (Gibraltar), I. 2, 12 
,alvi I. ,4. '>! -t , .,. ,,-,,, distance " 7.5 

Camaldoh lulls. ][. 219 I. S'.i; at I'cl.i iuni, 22.) 

Cameis at Smyrna, I. :i.) 

CamiHi Formi'o, Treaty of. I. 2:!.s 

Campi>tile. The. 1. 7'.i' 

Canal, (irand. at Venice, II. "J17 

( 'alines, II. 2. 7 : "a I'.alicl >et in r.iradi>e." 
J7": priucrpal streets, and origin. 271: 
tiirtitiratinns of Vaillian. and Kolnan 
leinains. 272 

Capo d'lstria. II. 258 

Caprajn. I. 74; II. IS,'! 

Cajiri, II. 21S; chiing^s in ap]H>iirnncc. 22H : 
its t'ax'iiiati. >:). 'J:in ; historical associa 
tions. 2:!1 ; jialaces of Tiln-rias. 2:!2 : its 
lieantifnl women, 2-J2, 233; Blue Grotto. 

Cartilweel, II. .'!, 11. 15 

Caratraoa, Hatlis ,,f. ll. 100 

1 'arinthia. llukesof. II. --VJ 

Carloforte, II. 157 

Carlos. Don, and the rising in Barcelona, I. 

Carmel, Mount, I. 97; monastery on, 98; 

traditions and history, !)!) 
Carnival at Xice. II. !) ' 
Carcineyranne, 11. i?ii7 

Carrara, church of S. Andrea, and the 
marble quarries, II. 171: mos.juitos. 17-'i 
Cartama. II. 114 

I 'arthage, Site and remains of, I. 142. 130 
Carthagenians. and Genoa. I. 118; and. 
Tunis, 142; sepulchres in Sardinia, II. 
149; destruction of Selinus, 212 
Casal Cunni, II. 31 
( 'asiil Nadur, II. 3S 
Cassian, St., and the monastery of St. Victor. 

Marseilles. I. 62 
Castellaccio. Kort of, II. 195 
i 'astellamare. II. 'J.'t.'i 
Castiglione della I'eseai:i, II. 18). 198 
Castile, I. 20 

Castle, Moorish, at Gibraltar, I. 13, 14 ; 
Crusaders' at Kulat-el Kurein, 103: at 
Sidon, 110; at Batrnn, 115; at Tripoli. 
115; at Acro-Corinthus, 169; of Belfver, 
262 : at Pollensa, 273 ; at Nice. II. 5 ; of 
Asia, 25; of Europe (Dardam'lles), 26; 
of Abydos, 27 : of Zeme'mck, 2S ; of the 
Malatestas, Kimim, 72; at Cotronc, 100; 
of Miramar, 258 

i 'ataeombs at Alexandria, I. 218 
Catania, II. 198, 199 

Catauzaro, II. 91,95; picturesqueness, Iwauty 
of the women, and mode of salutation, 
98, 99 

Cathedral, at Gibraltar, I. 1 1 ; at Marseilles 
48; at Tyre, 107; at Genoa, 132; at 
Barcelona, 183; at Palma, 262; at Nice, 
II. 5; at Ravenna, 66, 67; at Ancona. 
77; at Messina, 90; at Almeria, 119; at 
Algiers, 163; at Pisa, 177; St. Mark's, 
Venice, 243246 
Cato, Suicide of, I. 146, 160 
C'attaro, its history and fortress, I. 255, 256; 

churches, 257 
Catullus, and his story relating to the temple 

of Arsenoe, I. 219 
I 'aves of Majorca, I. 271 
< Vmeteries of Sidon, I. 109 
Cemetery at Alexandria, I. 217 
Cephalonia, II. 140; Samoa, Argastoli. 
Mount JEnos, and the work of Sir C. 
Napier, 142 
Cerigo, II. 143; legend of Aphrodite, Kap- 

siili, and stalactite caverns, 144 
Cerigotto, or Lios, II. 144 
Cervantes, euloginm on Barcelona, I LSI 
Cervi, II. 143 
Cervia, II. (i!) 
Cetina. l(iv..|. I. '2'it 

Ceuta. I. 11. Ill; origin of name and history 
of, 20; main features of, 21; ancient 
names, and shape of rock. 22 
Champollion. M., and the Egyptian stone at 

Rosetta, I. 22 1 
Cha.'i.-s Albert, King of Sardinia, and his 

palace at Genoa, I. 12C 
"Charles III., King," I. 17, 18 
Charles V., I. 17 ; expedition to Tunis, 143 

besieges Goletta, 146; takes Susa LV> 
Charles VI., and Trieste, II. 25G 
Chateau d'lf, I. 54 
Chateaubriand, and Corinth, I 171 
Chemtou, I. 150 
Chenak, II. 24, 25 
Chersonese, Towns of the, II. 31 
Chiavari. I. 137; supplies organ-boys to 

China, British trade with, I. 31 

Chioggia. II. 250 

Chios, I. 23 

Cholera, The. at Smyrna. I. 31; at Mar 

seilles. ."ill 

( 'imic/, II. 3, 11: monastery and amphi- 
theatre of. 12. 15 
Cinto, Monte, I. 71 : ascent and view from. 


Cisterns. Roman, at Minorca. I. 277 
( 'iuiladela. Talayots in the vicinity of. I. 277 
civita Vecchia. its founder and history. II. 

Claudius II.. and Hoiinn arch at Finnic. II 


('lenient XII., I 'ope. Arch at Ancona, II. 76 
Cleopatra, and Antony, at the Temple of 
Diana, I. 43; at Alexandria. 208; Baths 
of. at Alexandria. 21N 
Cleopatra's Necdlr. 1. 215 
Clissa, Fortress of. 1. 253 
Colchis. II. 2.V.I 

Colnn -lius. Monument to. at Genoa. I. 130: 
monument at Barcelona. ISO; his recep- 
tion at Barcelona by Ferdinand and 
Isabella. 1811. HIS 

Comacchio. Lagoons and fisheries of. II. 70 
Coininctto. II. 35 
Colnino, II. 34, 38 

Concha. General, and the sugar-rune in- 
dustry of Malaga. II. 1 13 
Conejera. I. 275 

Constanrine, Emperor, and Sicyon, 1. Hi3 
Constantinople, I. Hi 

Constantius, Tomb of, at Ravenna, II 60 
Contes. II. 12 

Convent. Coptic, at Alexandria. I. 218 
Corfu, view from the citadel, and Nelson's 
plan for taking the citadel. II. 124 ; his- 
torical and poetical allusions, 124, 125 ; 
original inhabitants, 125 : Bay of Govina, 
128; Castle of St. Angelo, and the 
Monastery of I'abeokastritxa. 12!) 
Corinth, Gulf of, chief features, I. 161 ; 
tranquillity. 162; Sicyon, 163: Vasilika. 
Patras, Missolonghi. and the battle of 
Lepanto, 164 ; lepers at Patras, 165 : the 
Isthmus. 166. 167 ; Acro-Corinthus. 
167 171 : remains of old Corinth, 171 ; 
modern Corinth, 172 174 : Mount Par- 
nassus, 174; Delphi, and the Temple of 
Apollo, 174 176 ; interest of the villages. 
177; best time for visiting, 178; pirates 
and brigands, and the hospitality of a 
peasant at Marathon, 179 
Corinth, Isthmus of, I. 166 
Corneto, " lifts to heaven a diadem of 
towers," II. 187; churches. Etruscan 
and Roman antiquities, and origin. 187 
Cornigliano, II. 267 
Corno, Remains of, II. 187 
" Coronet of Ionia, The," name for Smyrna. 

I. 23 

Corradino, II. 50 

Corsica, its beauty and general appearance. 
I. 69; climate and seasons. 7(1; Cape 
Corso, 70; woods and gardens. 71 : 
flowers and figs, and appearance of the 
men, 72 ; the women, 73, 76 ; La Vasina. 
Erbalunga, and the grotto ot Brando. 
73; view from Cape Corso, 71 ; Calvi. 
and the forest of Yaldoniello, 75 ; wood- 
cutting, 76 ; Corte, 77 : Pascal Paoli. 
and Monte ('into. 78; Forest of Aitone, 
and the hospitality of the people. 7!i : 
articles of diet, 80 ; Evisa, and the 
Bpelunca, 81 ; Gulf of Porto, and birth- 
place of Napoleon, 82 : Ajaccio, 83 ; 
Sarteiie. 84 ; forests of Bavclla and St. 
Pietro di Verde, 86: Ghisonuccia, and 
the grottoes of Bonifacio. SO, 87 ; time 
for visiting. SS 
Corsican brothers. The, I. 84 
Corso, Cape, I. 7n, 71. 75 
i 'ortc, I. 75 ; work of Pascal Paoli, 78 
Cosen/a, II. 91 
Cosspicua, II. .~>n 

Cotrone, II. 9<J ; historical events. 100102 
Cremation suggested for adoption in Bar- 
celona. I. INN 
Cressy, Battle of. I. 132 
("rispus. son of Constantine the Great, a 

captive at Pola, II. 262 
Cristobal, St., I. 277 
Crusaders, at Smyrna. I. 26 ; at Acre, 102 ; 

at Tyre, 107 ' 
Cumae, II. 226, 230 
Curzola, Island of. I. 214. 251 



Cybele, Temple of, II. 258 

Cyclops, The, and Smyrna, I. 26 ; and the 

Scogli dei Ciclopi, II. 198 
Cyprian, St., I. 82 
Cyrene, Peninsula of, I. 100 
Cyrus, I. 46 
Cyzicus, II. 30 

Dukhel, Lighthouse at, I. 152 
Dalraatia, described, I. 233 ; geological 
formation, 234 ; seen at sunset, and the 
charm of the sea, 235 ; past history, 236 ; 
islands off, 238 ; Zara, or Jadera, 238 
242 ; Sebenico, 242, 243 ; Spalato and 
Knin, 243 ; islands, 244, 245 ; Trail, 240 ; 
Salona, 247, 248 ; architecture of Spalato, 
249 ; palace of Spalato, 250 ; site of old 
Salona, and modern village, 252, 253 ; the 
Cetina, Raguai, and Cattaro, 254 257 

Damanhour, I. 225 

Damietta, I. 227 

Dante, Tomb of, at Ravenna, II. 64 ; and 
the story of Francesca, 71 

Darby, Admiral, and the siege of Gibraltar, 
I. 15 

Dardanelles, I. 23, 164 ; historical associa- 
tions, II. 18 ; Mounts Ida and Gargaros, 
and the oak forest, 19; Besika Bay, 
Talion, Keui, andTenedos, 20, 21 ; legend 
of Poseidon and Laomedon, 22 : Yenikeui 
and Yeni Sliehir, 22 ; tombs of Festus, 
Patroclus, and Achilles, and Plain of 
Troy and Hissarlik, 23 ; Dr. Schlie- 
mann's excavations on the Plain of Troy, 
and the Town of Chenak, 24, 25 ; Castle 
of Asia, 25 ; Castle of Europe, and 
Hecuba, wife of Priam, 26 ; Gulf of 
Ma'ito, and the Cape of Nagara, 27 ; 
Sestos, story of Leander, Castle of Zemc- 
nick, Castles of Kaziler and Ouelger, 
and the Town of Lampsaki, 28 ; Tchardak, 
Gallipoli, 29; Marble Island, Afsia, 
Koulali, Aloni, Gadaro, and Cyzicus, 30 ; 
site of Lyshnachia, earthquakes, and the 
deluge of Samothrace, 31 ; " The Body- 
consuming Stone," 32 

Darius, and Abydos, II. 27 

Delord, Taxile, I. 67 

Delphi, Site of (or Kastri), I. 175; Temple 
of Apollo, the stadium, and the earth- 
quake of 1870, 175 

Delta, Egyptian, Fertility of the, I. 225 

Deluge of Samothrace, II. 31 

Dervishes at Smyrna, I. 24, 42 

Desertcheny, I. 43 

Deya, I. 268 

Diana, birth at Ephesus, I. 39; temple, 
39, 44 

Diocletian, Palace of, at Spalato, I. 246, 
251 ; retirement at Salona, 247 

Dionysius the Tyrant, I. 245 

Djama-el-Kebir, Mosque at Tangier of the. 

Djerba, Island of, I. 15" ; the loins, the 
Pyramid of Skulls, and great inland sea 
at, 159 

Djurjura, The. II. 161 

Dog river, I. 112 

Dolcus, The, of the Greeks, I. 167 

Don, General, and the Alanieda Gardens, 
Gibraltar, I. 1 1 

Don Carlos, brother of Ferdinand VII., II. 

Donkeys of Smyrna, I. 34, 35 

Dor, I. 98 

Doria, Andrea, and his influence in Genoa, 
I. 119, 126 ; incidents in his life, 130, 159 

Doria, Jean, captures the corsair Dragut, 

I. 143 

Dragonera, Island of, I. 274 

Drinkwater, Captain John, and the siege of 

Gibraltar, I. 15 

Druses of Lebanon, The, I. 110 
Duckworth, Admiral, forcing the passage of 

the Dardanelles, II. 26 
Dulcigno, I. 258 
Dumas, Alexandre, allusion to Poz/uoli, 

II. 229 

Durazzo, I. 258 
D'Urfe, I. 67 

Dutch, The, in Smyrna, I. 26 

"Eagle-Catchers," The (87th Regiment), 
Earthquake ill Greece, 1870, I. 175; near 

the Dardanelles, II. 31 ; in Calabria, 
1783, 87 

Edrisi, his description of Beja, I. 151 

Edward, son of King John of Portugal, and 
his expedition against Tangier, I. 20 

Egypt, variety of interest connected with, 
I. 210; inscribed stone at Rosetta, 224; 
agricultural wealth of, 225 ; the "gift of 
the Nile," 226 ; English expedition of 
1807, 223 

Eteus, II. 22 

Elba, I. 74 ; quarries and mines of, II. 180 ; 
Napoleon's confinement, plans for im- 
proving the island, and his escape, 

Elgin, Lord, and the temples of Corinth, I. 

El Hacho, signal-tower at Gibraltar, I. 14, 

El Kantara, ruins of Roman city at, I. 159 
Elliot, General, Monument at Gibraltar to. 

I. 11 ; the siege of Gibraltar, I. 15, 16 
English statuary, Defective, I. 1 1 
Ephesians, The, and Smyrna, I. 26 
Ephesus, Plains near, I. 23 ; ruins of. his- 
torical associations, and the Temple of 

Diana, 39, 43, 44 
Erbalunga, I. 73, 74 
Ersa, I. 74 
Eryx, II. 211 
Esparto grass, II. 118 
Esperandieu, and the church of Notre Dame 

de la Garde, Marseilles, I. 03 
Estepona, I. 19 
Estcrel, The, II. 267, 268 
Etna, II. 194, 196, 198, 199, 211 
Etruscans, The, II. 184 
Eugiinean Hills, The, II. 250 
Eugenie, Empress, Spanish origin of, II. 


Eulalia, St., I. 279 
Euphraeim, Bishop, II. 258 
Euroklydon, The, at Malta, II. 35 
Europa Point, Gibraltar, I. 11 ; Governor's 

cottage at, 12, 15 
Eusebius, at Tyre, I. 107 
Euthymenes, I. 47 ; statue at Marseilles. 50 
Euxine, The, and the formation of the Bos- 

phorus, II. 31 
Evisa, I. 75, 79 ; savage appearance of the 

country around, 81 
Extortions of Pashas, I. 27 
"Eye of Anatolia, The," name for Smyrna, 

Eyes of women at Smyrna, I. 24 

Falicon, II. 12, 17 

Falo, Monte, I. 78 

Famine at Genoa, I. 120 

Fano, II. 74 

Fellaheen, Egyptian, I. 25 

Ferdinand, Don, and the Portuguese at 

Ceuta, I. 21 
Ferdinand and Isabella, reception of 

Columbus at Barcelona, I. 186, 198 
Ferdinand II., II. 95 
Ferdinand IV., II. 88,211 
Ferdinand VII., II. 255 
Ferrat, Cape, II. 15 
Festus, Tomb of, II. 23 
Fiescho, Count, I. 130 
Filfla, II. 35 

Finocchiarola Islands. I. 74 
Fiume, Gulf of, II. 262 ; town of, 262, 263 
Florent, St., I. 71 ; Bay of, 74 
Florus, and his designation of Corinth, I. 

174 ; description of Majorca, 261 
Flower Market, at Marseilles, I. 51 ; at 

Barcelona, 182 
Follouica, II. 185 
Folquet, I. 67 

Forest, Pine, of Ravenna, II. 67, 69 
Formentera, I. 259 
Formica, II. 185 
Fortifications of Gibraltar, I. 14 18 ; of 

Genoa, 119; of Cannes, II. 272; of 

Ventimiglia, II. 278 
Fortress of Kaz-el-Dagh, I. 23 ; at Tabarca, 

143; of Acro-Corinthus, 167, 168; of 

Clissa, 253 
Fortuity, his paintings at Barcelona, I. 184 ; 


Fossa Claudia, II. 250 
France, and the siege of Gibraltar, I. 18; 

captures Genoa, 119; Tunis under its 

protection, 142; and Barcelona, 198 

Franoesca of Rimini, II. 71, 72 

Franceschi, I. 74 

Fraser, General, anil the English expedition 

to Egypt of 1807, I. 223 
Frederick Barbarossa, siege of Ancona. II. 

Frederick I., destruction of his fleet at 

Pirano. II. 258 
Frejus, Gulf of, II. 267 
Froysard, and the first ex{)edition to Xurth 

Africa, I. 156 

Funeral at Venice, A, II. 250 
Funerals at Barcelona, I. 191 

Gabes, the ancient Tacape, and the scheme 

of Roudaire, I. 157 
Gadaro, II. 30 
(Jiilla Placidia, Tomb of, II. 59 

Galliera, Duchess of, and the Palazzo Kosso, 
Genoa, I. 120 

Gallipoli, II. 29 

Gargano, Monte, II. 78 

Gargaros, Mount, II. 19 

Garibaldi, Birthplace of, II. 3 ; at Ravenna. 
58 ; defeat at Aspromonte, 87 ; crossing 
Calabria, 190; landing at Marsala, 211 

Ga/a, Appearance and trade of, I. 90; build- 
ings and history of, 91 

Gebal, I. 113 

Gelat, I. 43 

Genoa, I. 23 ; struggle to )>ossess Smyrna , 
26; once a rival of Venice, 117; its 
detractors, 117; the beauty of its women, 
118; history, 119121; old and new 
towns, 121 ; position, and view from the 
slopes, 122 ; mediaeval churches, narrow- 
ness of streets, and the pnlazzi, 123 ; the 
Via Nuova, 124 ; Fergusson on the archi- 
tecture of, 125 ; the PaW/xo Ducale, and 
the Statue of Hercules, 126, 127; incidents 
in the life of Doria, 130; monument to 
Columbus, 130; the "old dogana," 131 ; 
the Exchange, trade in coral, precious 
metals, and filigree work, 132; the cathe- 
dral, 132 134; reputed origin of, 134; 
church of L'Annunziata, and the Campo 
Santo, 134 ; the environs, 135 ; meeting- 
place of the Rivieras, 136; railway to 
Spezzia, and places on the coast, 137 

George I., and Gibraltar, I. 18 

George, St., and the Dragon, Myth of, I. Ill 

George's Bay, St., Beirut, I. Ill 

Gerace, II. 90, 91_ 

Ghardimaou, I. 150 

Ghisonaccia, I. 86 

Ghisoni, I. 86 

Giardini, II. 196 

Gibel Mo-osa, Moorish name of Ceuta, I. 22 

Gibraltar, I. 3, 6 ; Robert Browning's re- 
ference to, 6 ; resemblance to a lion, 7 ; 
landing at, 8 ; variety of nationalities at, 
9 ; picturesqueness, 10 ; population, 10 ; 
strict military regulations, and chief ob- 
jects of interest, 11, 12: Moorish Castle, 
13; fortifications, 1418; siege of, 15 
18 ; capitulation to the Prince of Hesse, 
18 ; the " key of the Mediterranean," 17 

Gioja, II. 91 

Giraglia, Island of, I. 74 

Girgenti, " City of Temples," monuments 
of Pagan worship, and Pindar's designa- 
tion, II. 203, 204 ; Temple of Concord, 
205 ; Temple of Hercules, ravages of 
earthquakes, and Shelley's allusion in 
" Ozymandias," 206 

Glass discovered near the river Belus, I. 103 

Globe-trotting, and Gibraltar, I. 12 

Golden Horn, I. 23 

Goletta, besieged by Charles V., I. 146 

Golfe de la Napoule, II. 268 

Golo, River, I. 77 

Gondolas of Venice, II. 243 

Gordian I., Emperor of Thysdrus, I. 155 

Gothard, St., II. 248 

Gough, Colonel, his defeat of Marshal Victor 
at Tarifa, I. 3 

Government House at Gibraltar, I. 1 1 

Gozo, II. 35, 30, 38 

Granada, I. 14 ; II. 121 

Gravosa, I. 254 

Greece, its deep interest, I. 179 ; prospect of 
a revival of its old importance, 180 

Greeks, at Gibraltar, I. 10 ; in Smyrna, 26 ; 
their trade in the Levant, 31 ; their trade 
at Marseilles, 55, 58 

Gregorius, The Exarch, I. 142 



-\ tin 1 Great, and tin 1 destruction lit' 
ancient idols 111 Sardinia. II. 157 
lirimalili. Tin 1 . I. 131 
Mo, it. II. 12 

I iMi 
Grotto nf Brand... I. 73; at Malta ami St. 

I'.iul. 11. .'.I; ..I sta. RtMkUa, -Ml : Di 

PoMli],. 220; at Capri. 231 

i I'.miifaci.i. I. NT 

Giiclpli-. Tin 1 , ami lirn.ia. I. I 111 

U'l-t. ami St. Nicolas' chimb. 

Bari. 117 

( iny "t Lusignan. I. 102 
iiu/miu. Aloii/o I'crc/ ill 1 , ami his aet ot 

defiance at Tarila. 1. '1 
Gymnasium of Ephcsus, I. II 
G/cicr. II. :i"i 

Hadiilar. Valley "f. I. 23 

Haifa. I. loo. 103 

Hamilcar Barui, and Pellcgrino, II. 211 

II iTiiriin. II. .">! 

Hainiihal and Ephesus, I. 39, 111; ami 

Cotronc and Taranto, II. 99 
Harbours of Italy praised by Virgil, I. 23 
Harbour* i it' tin 1 Mediterranean, their nlmnd- 

ance, I. 23 ; nf Marseilles. 55 
Harems kept by British traders. I. 31 
Haroun al Hashjd. reputed birthplace. 1. 


Hecuba and the sons of Pulvmestor, II. 20 

Helena. Empress, I. 91. 11:1 

Hcllesjiont. The. 11. '-'-' : and Lcamler, 2S 

Henuwei, Village of. I. 10!) 

Hepaticas, Valley of, II. 12 

Heraclea. II. in-' 

Herakles. II. 22 

11 Hercules. 1'illars of." I. 1, 2, 6, 22 

Urn-nit's and the Amazons of F.phesus. I. 
39: Temple at Girgenti, II. 200; Temple 
at Selinuiitn. 'Jll 

HITIK!. King, and Ceesarea, I. '.Hi. 97 

Herodotus and the Syrian insrriptiniis, I. 112 

Hesse. Prince of. and the acquisition of 
Gibraltar. I. 18 

II. \ imil. II. :il 

Mirks. Captain, and the siege of Gibraltar. 
I. 18 

Hiaragrjrphia, Egyptian, at 1( .s-tta, I. 221 

Hillain 1 '. M. Bt.and the occupation of Tunis 
by tin- French. I. 1 13 

Hippo K'-gia. I. 151 

Hipocrates. I. ITS 

Hiram. Tomb of, I. HIS ; ami Malaga, II. IDS 

Hissarlik. II. 23 

Homer. 1. 26; said to have been born at 
Smyrna or Scio, 37 : said to have been 
burn at Ephesus, 39 bis reference to 
Sidon, 109: adventures of Odysseus :,t 
Ithai-a. II. 130-140; and Ac-i licale. 19S 

Homeric era, "Pillars of Hercules" in the. 

Honorat. St.. II. 269 

Himorins. Kmperor, and Ravenna, II. ."(i ; 

t<niib of daughter, 59 
Hoonit-es-Souk. capital of Djerba, I. 159 
Horace, and his designation for the south 

wind. I. 235 : journey to It unc. II. 80 
>ir \V.. vietory over the French off 

Lissa. I. 245 

Hougoumnlit. Chateau of. I. 13 
Hungary and Fiume, II. 201 
Huns. Tin 1 , and Dalmatia. I "3d 
Hyhvs. 1. 17 : II. 267 
Hyiuettiis. I. 170 
HyjMtia at Ali'vndria. I. 2ns 

lasih. II. 31 

Ib'rian ran 1 ,,t I ienoa, I. IIS 

Ida. M. , nut. Curii ,us ]iheniiiiienoii on, II lu 

Illyria attacked by the Romans, I. 230 

Imbros. II. 22 

Imtarfa, II. 53 

Im-nilim-. Tin.. I. ;s 

India. British trade with. I. :!1 

Inscriptions on rocks n,Mr Hrirut I 111 

[nieoaa. D-tilc ,,f tin-, i. si; 

Lillian M'imU. I. hi) ; Corfu. [I. I 1 .': 1 , ]>!! 

I'aM, -Hid .\ntipl\o. I 1 ."., . .S;,,, t:1 M.,,,,,,' 

and Levk.U. 182; M.-nnisi. Kalamo. 
'"d > 134 : Ithaca, l:; i 
''pi' 9 a 1 10; /ante. 1 1:; ' 

CeH^O, th- St|i.pb:,,| ,. Saliien/a. ami 


Ionian I.i.i^ur. Tin 1 . I. 2'i 

Ischia, II. '-MS 

Iskandcn'inr. l-'uins nf, I. lll'i 

Islands of the Blest. I. I 

Urafel. Tin 1 Angi'l, and a belief of the 

.Mnslellis. 1. 217, -MS 
Istlnniaii uaines. The, I. 171, 172 
Mria, I. 233; 11. 258. 2.58 -'HI 

//,(/w urtdmta, The. II. '-''><; 

Italy, its barbi'iirs praised by Vit^il, 1. 23 : 
I'Mieb b.-hind the times. 1 !. ,xo 

Ithaea. its e.q.ital Vatl'V, I '. 130: adven- 
tures. ,f Odfmeat, l:;i'i -140 

Ivi/.a, I. 2."!); almnlids. and tigs. St. .Iran, 
St. Kulalia. St. Antonio, and t'ni'titiia- 
tions. 279: winding stunts and eharae- 

teristies nt' On 1 people, 280 

Ivory on houses in Tangier, I. C 

.lall'a. Memorable events nt, I. 89, 91; 

appearance, of, 9") 
.lames. King, of Aragun, landing at Ifffijoraa, 

I. 202. 271 

.'apan, British trade with, I. 31 
.leLeil. I. 113 
Jebel Siinnin. highest iieak of Lclutuun, 1. 


Jews, nt (Gibraltar, I. 10; in Snivrna, 26 
John, Don, and the battle of Lemnto, I. 


John Paheologos, Emperor, II. 29 
John of Portugal, King, takes Centa from 

the Moors, I. 20 
John, St., the Evangelist, and Ephesus, I. 

39, 43 
Joseph of Arimathea, and the <; cutiiio 

at Genoa, I. 133, 134 
Juan. St., I. 279 

Juarez, President, and the Emperor Maxi- 
milian, II. 2"iS 
Julius Cffisar, entry into Rimini, II. 71 ; and 

Pola. 2;j'J 

.Tnmeh, Bay of , I. 113 
Jumper, Captain, and the siege of Gibraltar, 

1. 18 
Juno, Lacinian, Worship of, at Cotrone, II. 

Jupiter, Temple of, at Spalato, I. 2.">0 : 

temple at Ortygia, II. 201 
Jussuf Pasha. 1/104 
Justinian and Theodora, represented in 

mosaics at the church of St. Vitale, 

Raveniri, II. 64 
Justinopolis, II. 2o8 

Kadisha, River, I. 115 

Kadjali. II. 31 

Kantara, I. 42 

Kara Bournou. Promontory of, I. 23 

Kastrades. Bay of, II. 126 

Kaz-el-Dagh, Fortress of, I. 23 

Keats. Grave of, II. 173 

Kelebia. the ancient Clypea, I. 1.V2 

Kerka, Falls of. I. 244 

Kerouan, I. 147; origin, mosques and wj.lls 

of, 153 

Khalil. Melek, I. 102 
Klinnmii: The. I. 143, 146 
Knights Templars of Rhodes, struggle to 

obtain Smyrna, I. 27 
Knin, I. 243 

Kolnphonians, The. and Smyrna, I. 26 
Konlali. II. :io 

Kurds. The. in Smyrna. I. 26 
Kynosema. II. 20 

I.a Hayo, Farmhouse of, I. 13 
La Mortoln. Point, II. 278 
IM Pnebla. I. 273 

l.-lgnnlis ef ronricelli.i, II. 70 

I.IHJHIIII .]i,,,t<i. The. at Venice, II. 2."0 
Laissc/.faire." The doctrine of. and Turkisli 

rule. I. 28 
I.ampsiiki, II. 28 
landslip at Hoi|iii'bnine. II. 27<s 
Lane-Poole, Mr. Stanhy. and the Xile, I. 

L"J| i 

i ,:e uiiedon, II. 22 I'almas. II. 19.'i 
I.atnna. flight to E]ihesns. I. :!n 
l.'iviui rie. Cardinal, and sel.eme to rebuild 

Cartilage. I. |.,ij 

I.a/arus, Legend respecting, at Marseilles, 

I. 03 

l.e 1'aradis. I. 43 

I.eander. swiinming the Hellespont. II. 28 
Lebanon, Silk factories of. I. 98: highest 

peak of. 110; the Druses of. 110 
Legend concerning Lazarus. I. (i:; ; of St. 

Anthony and the fishes, II. 73 
Leghorn, I. 70, 111); its dulness. history. 

and canals, II. 178; streets, liarlk.ur. 

trade, statue of Ferdinand, and burial 

place of Smollett. 17'.) 
I emnns. Volcanic mountain of, II. 19 
I cntini, II. 199 
I. en. The ei ijisiellation, and Berenice's lucks 

I. 220 
Leopold of Austria, ami Trieste, II, 250 

Lepant.i. liattl '. I. 101 ; II. 212 

Lepers at I'atras. I. 10") 

Lerici, and Shelley's last days. II. 172 

Lelilis. Vincent de. at St. HolK'nit. II. 2011 

Lesbians, The, II. 27 ' 

Lcslios, I. 23 

Lesina. I. 214 

Lessens, M. de, and the Suez Cair.l, I. 230 

Levie, I. 86 

Levkas. probable identity with the Homeric 

Doulichion, II. 132; Sappho's Leap, 

Mount Skaros, and ruins of Temple of 

Apollo, 133. 131 ; Maduri, 135 
Lia, II. 51 
Library, Garrison, at Gibraltar, I. 11 ; at 

Alexandria. 210 
Lighthouse at Dakhel, I. 152; of Ta Giur- 

dan, II. :j(i 
Liguria, noted for the cunning of its people, 

I. 118 

Ligmian Sea, II. 267 
Limpia. ILirbour and village of, II. 4 
Lion of St. Mark at Venice, II. 217 
Lipari Islands, II. 87 
Lisbon, I. 17 
Lissa, Island of, Notable events at the. I. 


Livy, and the extent of Cotrone. II. 100 
Lloyd Company, Austrian, II. 250 
Lluch, I. 271 
Locarno, II. 280 
Locrians, The, II. 91 
Lombards, The, sack of Ancona, II. 75 
l.i.-hix. The, I. 159 
Louis, St.. I. 150 
Louis XIV., I. 17: and the storming of 

Barcelona, ins 

Lngarno. II. 2SO 

Luis Salvator, Archduke, and Miramar, I. 
267, 208 

Luke, St., his picture of the Virgin, II. 264 

Lully, Raymond, site of his college at Mira- 
mar. I. 268 

Luna, Remains of, II. 174 

Luri, I. 74 

Lydia, Kings of, attack Smyrna. I. 20 

Lyell, Sir Charles, on the formation of the 
Dardanelles and the Bosphorus, II. 31 

Lyons, Climate of, 1. 203 

L\sandor, victory at the JEgos-Potamos, 

I.ysiiiiachus, II. 31 

Macgregor, Mr. John (Hob Roy), and the 
ruins of Tanis, I. 229 

Mncomer, II. 152 151 

Maduri, II. 135 

Magnan. The, II. 12 

Magyars, The. I. 230 

Mahadia, I. 157 

Mahon. Port. I. 202. 275 

Matto. Gulf of, II. 27 

Majorca, I. 25!); reputed origin and de- 
scription by Florus, 201; Harbour of 
Palma, Santa Ponza. and lielher Castle. 
202 ; houses and people of Palma, 263 
205; divided into two parts, 205; liay 
of Alcudia. 260; Valldemosa. 200. 207'; 
Miramarand the Archduke Luis Salvator. 
267, 21,8; Soller. 209 271 ; Pollensa. 271 : 
caves, 274 

Malaga. I. 40; raj, id development, II. 105; 
climate, general appearanc". and con- 
venient position for excursions. Irti ; th" 
Alpujarras. 100; Phienician oriuin. IDS; 
history, llo 115; water supply, 111: 
the vineyards. 113: sugar industry. Ill; 
Castle, Grecian Temple, and the Alcazaba, 
111: attractiveness of the women. 115; 



harbour, 110: Almeria, 118; Cape de 
Gatt, 119; the Sierra Tejacla, the Sierra 
Nevada, 120; Trevelez anil Alhundin. 
121 ; Laujaron, the Muley Hacen, and 
the Picacho, 122 

Malamocco, II. 250 

Miilta, I. 244 : " England's eye in the Medi- 
terranean," II. 32 ; formerly a peninsula 
of Africa, and its fertility, 34 ; Gozo, 
Comino, and Cominetto, and the Funijn* 
jllcliti'i/xif, 35 ; the Go/itaus, 38 

Man with the Iron Mask, II. 269 

Marble Island, II. 30 

Marcus Aurelius, inscription near Beirut, 
I. Ill 

Maremma, The, II. 185 

Marengo, Battle of, I. 121 

Marfa, II. 39 

Marguerite, Ste., II. 269 

Maria Theresa and Trieste, II. 256 

Mariette Bey and the ruins of Tanis, I. 229 

Mark, St., at Alexandria, I. 208 ; reputed 
place of burial, 218; Lion at Venice, II. 

Marmano, I. 86 

Marmora, II. 30, 31 

Marriages of Greeks at Marseilles, I. 55, 56 

Marsala, II. 211 

Marseilles, I. 23 ; its Greek origin, and im- 
portance as the capital of the Mediter- 
ranean, 46 ; history, 47, 58 ; appearance 
from the sea, 48 ; the Old Port and the 
Caimebiere, 49, 50 ; the Bourse, pro- 
menades, and statues of Pytheas and 
Euthymenes, 50 ; flower market and 
the Prado, 51 ; the Coruiche road 
and bottillitbaitwe, 51, 52; Public Garden, 
Chateau d'lf, and the quays, 54; har- 
bours, Greek merchants, and marriage 
customs, 55, 56 ; Greek type in the 
physique of the people, 57 ; hotels, 
cholera, plague, and the 'itiislml, 59, 60 ; 
Palais des Arts and the Church of St. 
Victor, 62 ; Church of Notre Dame de la 
Garde, 63 ; Chain of Estaques, fortress, 
and people, 66; birthplace of distin- 
guished men, 67 ; its proud position, 68 

Martin, Cap, II. 276 

Mary, The Virgin, and Ephesus, I. 43 ; 
image at St. Victor's, Marseilles, 63 ; St. 
Luke's, Picture of, II. 264 

Mary Magdalene and Ephesus, I. 43 

Mascaron, I. 67 

Massa, Quarries and palace at, II. 175 

Massena, General, at Genoa, I. 120 

Maximilian, Emperor, II. 258 

Medea, Pursuit of, II. 259 

Mediterranean, The deep interest connected 
with the cities and ruins on the shores of 
the, I. 2 ; Tarifa, 2, 3 ; Tangier, 46 ; 
Gibraltar, 6 18; Algeciras, San Roque, 
andEstepona, 19 ; Ceuta, 19 22; abund- 
ance of harbours, 23 ; Smyrna, 23 45 ; 
Scio, 3739; Ephesus, 3944; Mar- 
seilles, 4668 ; Corsica, 6988 ; Syrian 
Coast, 89116; Genoa, 117141 ; Tunis, 
142160; Gulf of Corinth, 160180; 
Barcelona, 181 206 ; Alexandria, 207 
231 ; Dalmatia and Albania, 232258 ; 
Balearic Isles, 259280 ; Nice, II. 117: 
Dardanelles, 1832 ; Malta, 3354 ; 
Ravenna to Brindisi, 55 80; Calabria, 
81104; Malaga, 105122; Ionian Is- 
lands, 123144: Sardinia, 145 100 ; 
Algiers, 161171 ; Tuscan Coast, 172 
193; Sicily, 194 217; Naples, 218 210: 
Northern Adriatic (Venice, Trieste, Pola, 
etc.), 241264; The Riviera, 263280 

Medjerda, River, 1. 144 ; bridge over the, 150 

Megara, Bay of, II. 200 

Mehemet Ali, I. 102 

Meleda, I. 244 

Melos, River, I. 37, 42 

Mentone, I. 51 ; mountain paths, II. 2, 7; 

walks and drives at, 278 
- Menzaleh, Lake, I. 227, 228 

Mery, I. 67 

Messina, II. 87 : the Straits and the Cathe- 
dral, 90; route from Naples, 194 ; general 
appearance, trade, cathedral, university, 
etc., 195 

Metaurus, The, II. 74 

Michele, San, and Zara, I. 239 

Migiarro, II. 38 

Milis, Oranges of, II. 153 

Miltiades and the wall of the Chersonese, 
II. 31 

Minden, I. 15 

Minorca, I. 259 ; ruins of British fortifica- 
tions, 262 ; English occupation and 
French acquisition, 275 ; Port Mahon, 
275 ; the " talayots," 275, 276 ; Monte 
Toro and Fort St. Felipe, 276; St. 
Cristobal, Roman cisterns, and Ciudadela, 

Miraljeau imprisoned at Chateau d'lf, I. 54 

Miramar, I. 267 ; the Archduke Luis 
Salvator, 267, 268 ; Castle of, II. 25S 

Misada, II. 51 

Missolonghi, I. 164 

Mislni/, The, I. 59 ; at Nice, II. 7 

Mithridates, defeat at Ephcsus, I. 39 

Mohammed II. and Tenedos, II. 21 

Mohammed IV. and the Jewish impostor, 
II. 27 

Mohammedans at Smyrna, I. 27 ; at Tunis, 

Mo'.e at Gibraltar, I. 9, 12, 13, 16 

Moli di Santa Teresa, II. 258 

Monaco, I. 31 ; description of, II. 274, 

Monastir and the first expedition to North 
Africa, I. 156 

Monreale, Cathedral and Abbey of, II. 210 

Monte Carlo, II. 7 : its beauty, 275 

Monte-Cristo and Chateau d'lf, I. 54 

Monteleone, II. 95 

Montenegro, I. 257 

Montpellier, I. 203 

Monuments to Elliot and Wellington at 
Gibraltar, I. 11 

Moorish Castle at Gibraltar, I. 13, 14 

Moors in Gibraltar, I. 9 ; Ceuta taken from 
the, 20; in Spain, II. 110 

Mosque of the Djama-el-Kebir at Tangier, 
I. 6 ; at Tunis, 147 ; at Beja, 151 ; at 
Algiers, II. 163 

Mosques of Kerouan, I. 153, 154 ; of Alex- 
andria, 218 

Mountain of the Twin Brothers, I. 23 

Murano, II. 250 

Murat, King, and the extermination of 
brigands, II. 83 

Muro, Cape, I. 84 

Musta, II. 53 

Mustapha Pacha, I. 219 

Nagara, Cape of, on the site of Abydos, II. 

Nahr Ibrahim, The. 1. 1 13 

Nah'r-el-Joseh, or Walnut river, I. 115 

Napier, Sir C., bombardment of Jabeil, I. 

Naples, I. 23 ; its population and trade, 46 ; 
beauty of position, and charming en- 
virons, II. 218; sordid surroundings of 
the port, 219; streets, trades, and ul 
frexru toilettes, 220 ; Piazza degli Oretici, 
'and cruelty to animals, 222; snails, goats, 
water-sellers, and chapel of St. Jiiminrius. 
223 ; churches of Sta. Chiara, S. Dome- 
nico Maggiore, and S. Lorenzo, 225 ; 
antiquities of National Museum, Capri, 
Villa Na/ionale. and Grotto di Posilipo, 
226; "Corniche" of Posilipo. and Roman 
ruins, 227; Pozzuoli, 228; Monte Nuovo, 
and Avernus, 229 ; environs of Baiffs and 
Cumse, and fascination of Capri, 230 
235 ; the drive to Castellamare, 235 ; 
Sorrento, 236; Amalfl, 238, 239; Salerno, 
239, 240 

Napoleon, Wars of, and Tarifa. I. 3 ; birth- 
place of, 82 ; in Palestine, 100 ; and 
Genoa, 121, 134; seizure of Barcelona. 
198; defeat, at Alexandria, 219, 222; and 
a project for a Suez Canal, 230 ; at Malta, 
II. 49; and Calabria, 96 ; confinement at 
Elba, and escape, 180183 ; at Venice. 

Xapoleon III., march to Damascus, I. 112: 
acquires Nice, II. 5 

Narenta, Channel of, I. 244, 254 

Nebi Mashuk, I. 108 

Nebuel, Pottery of, I. 152 

Negroes at Gibraltar, I. 10 

Nelson, feasted at the Moorish Cnstle, Gib- 
raltar, I. 14 ; victory at Aboukir Bay, 
221, 222 ; plan for taking the citadel of 
Corfu, II. 123 ; at Capraja, 183 

Nero, and cutting the Isthmus of Corinth. 
I. 167 

Nervi, I. 137 

Nevada, Sierra, II. 120, 121 

Nicffia, II. 4 

Nice, _. 17, 47, 51 ; Corniche lload of, 71 : 
the Queen of the Riviera, II. 1 ; moiin- 
tains, and its detiuetors, 2; three distinct 
towns Greek, Italian, and French, 3 ; 
harbour and village of Liuipia, and its 
early history, 4; Castle Hill, 5; Haiilia 
Capeu, and the ini*,t>'itl, 1 ; Italian division 
and the Promenade du Midi, 7; cathedral 
cf St. Rt'parate, the modern town, :iiiil 
the Promenade des Anglais, 8 ; beauty nf 
the private gardens, carnival and tmtJlc 
of flowers, 9 ; the Jardin Public, quays 
on the Paillon bank, and casino, 10; 
theatre, Prefecture, flower market, the 
Ponchettes, the Place Massena, the Boule- 
vards Victor Hugo and Dubouehage, 
Cimiez and Carabacel, 11 ; suburbs, 11, 
12 ; the road to Monte Carlo, and Monaco, 
14 ; Villefranche, and the infinite charms 
of, 15 ; heights of Mont Alban, and the 
Magnan valley, 16; ''gloriously l>eauti- 
ful," 17 

Nicholas Alexandrowitch, The Czarewitcb, 
death at Nice, II. 12 

Nile, The, alluvial deposit, I. 209 ; little of 
the, 220 ; fertilising properties, 226 

Nimes, I. 58 

Nino, Lake of, I. 79 

Notabile, II. 50 ; antiquity and manufac- 
tures, 51 ; cathedral and churches, 54 

Numidian kings. The, I. 151 

Nuovo, Monte, II. 229 

Nuraghe, The, of Sardinia, II. 155 

"Oceanus, River," designation of the At- 
lantic in Homeric times, I. 2 

Octavius, defeat of Antony at Mustapha 
Pacha, I. 219 

Odessa, I. 68 

Odysseus, adventures in Ithaca, II. 136 140 

O'Hara's Folly, tower at Gibraltar, I. 14 

Okba bin Narl'a, founder of Kerouan, I. 153 

Olive Island, II. 263 

Olmetto, I. 83 

Olympus, II. 19 

Orange, I. 58 

Oranges, at Spezzia, I. 139; at Milis, II. 

Orbitello, Etruscan relics at, II. 186 

Origen, buried at Tyre, I. 107 

Oristano, II. 152154 

Orontes, The, I. 94 

Ortygia, Island of, II. 200; temple of 
Jupiter, and the Latomia, 201 ; Greek 
Theatre, 202 

Ostia, II. 191, 192 

Ostrogoths, The, and Marseilles, I. 58 

Otho, son of Frederick I., II. 259 

Otranto, Strait of, I. 258 

Oued Zergiia, Massacre at, I. 151 

Oxia, Archipelago of, I. 164 

Picstum, II. 92 

Pugus, Mount, I. 45 

Paillon, The, II. 15 

Paintings in the Palais des Arts, Marseilles, 
I. 62 

Palaces of the East, I. 23 

Palreopolis, II. 126 

J'nlassi, The, of Genoa and Venice, I. 123 

Palermo, II. 206 : first impressions disap- 
pointing, and the imposing aspect of the 
streets. 207 ; the Palazzo Reale, 208; the 
Cuppella Palatina,, church of Martorana, 
and the Cathedral, 209; observatory, 
Monreale. 210 ; museum, and the rocks 
of Pellegrino,etc.,215; thePiazzaMarina, 
216 ; its beauty at sunset, 217 

Palestine, The battle-field of, I. 99 

Pallanza, II. 267 

Palma, Harbour of. I. 262 ; houses and 
people of, 263 ; the RambH, 264 ; choco- 
late-making, 265 

Palo, II. 190 

Palodes, and the death of Pan, II. 130 

Panimilus of Megara, and the founding of 
Selinus, II. 212 

Pan. The god, and Ephesus, I. 39 ; legend 
about his death, II. 130 

Pandosia, II. 102 

Paoli, Pascal, Work in Corsica of, I. 78 

Pareatium. II. 258 

Parnassus, I. 161, 162, 174, 175; snow of, 



Parthenon, The, I. 17" 

Pashas. Tl \tottionsof. 1. 27 

Pa^Ton-t. DC. 1 . 07 

I. 105; tradition of St. Andrew's 

crucifixion at, 10<) 
Patrick. St.. at St. Ili.n.uat. II. 209 

-lus. Tomi.ot. II. 23 
Paul. St.. at Kph.-siis, I. 13; at ( 

'.'7 : at Acie. MIL': at Corinth. 171: scene 

of shipwreck. 21 1 ; voyage to Rome. II. 

IS; wrecked at (i/.eier, 35; jiopularity at 

Malta. 11 
r .-iv is. an i tin Isthmus ni i 'orinth, I. 


l'..\o. and Antipaxo. II. 129 
Peak of Tcncnttc, and the rock at Ccuta, I. 

"Pearl of the Mediterranean." designation 

of Ajaccio. I. S2 

of tin- Orient, The," name for 

Smyrna. I. 23 

PeUegrino. Monte, II. 210, 211 

Pellew. Admiral, and the destruction of the 

pirate fleet. II. 190 

l'c|n]ionnesian wars and Ahydos. 11.27, 120 
Peloponnesus. I. Kit) 
Pelusium. I. 111. 2H9; ruins of. 228 
Periander. I. 107 
Perini del Vaga, his frescoes at (ienoa, 

I. 12S 
Pesaro, II. 71 

IVtr.-irch, II. 225 

i"h Xccho, I. 89 
Pharos of Tarifa, The. I. 2 
Philip Augustus. 1. KI2 
Philip of Maccdon calls the City of Corinth 

the " fetters of Greece," I. 167 
Philip V.. I. IS; iKimbards Barcelona. 1!IS 
Phocasi, I. 40 

I'h.enicia. I. 103; plain of. 105 
PhiiMiicians. their designation of (Vnta. I. 

22 ; at Marseilles, 47 ; on the Svrian 

coast, 94; founding of Carthage, 150; 

and Malaga. II. 108 

Piana. Isola. and the tunny fishery, II. 157 
Pianosa. II. 182; historical associations, 1S3 
Piave, Delta of the, II. 253 
Pictra Santa. II. 17o 
Pietro di Verde. St., Forest of, I. 86 
Pietro Negro, II. 3.5 
Pietro. S.. II. 157. 159 
"Pillars of Hen-nles." I. 1; in Homeric 

times. 2. 0. 22, 47. 94 
Pindar and his designation of Agrigcntum 

II. 203 

line Forest, the Great, of Ravenna. II 

Pin Xono, Birthplace of, II. 71 

Piombino. II. 183 

Pirano. II. 258 

Pirates of Barbary. I. 47 

Pisa, rival of (ienoa, I. 119: Cathedral. 
Campo Santo, baptism, anil leanim. 
towerof, II. 170, 177 

Plague, The, at Smyrna. I. 32, 34 ; at Mar- 
seilles. 59. 0(1; at Palermo, II. >!! 

Planca. Cape of, I. 244 

Pliny. I. 141. 215 

Plutarch and the Isthmus of Corinth, I. 107 
ai.d the voyage of Epitherses, II. 129 

Pola, II. 259; ancient "history and Roman 
remains. 200; amphitheatre and streets, 
201; fortifications and docks. 203 

Policoro and the vi.-toi v of I'vrrhns over the 
Romans. II. 1112 

Pollensa, Pict- -of. and the Castillo 

del Rev, I. 273 

Pnllino, Monte, II. 92 

Polyearp, Tomb of, at Smyrna. I. 45 

Polymestor, Murder of the sons of, II. -'i; 

Polyphemus and Aci H.-ale. II. 

Piimp-y and Pnli. II. 25: 1 

Pompey's Pillar. I. 215 

Etna, st . II. 12 

Populonia, II. is:; ; d, t,-at of Lars Porsenna 
Uusmm. and possession by the 
Etruscans, ls| 

-idj 31.225; coaling station. 227 

I 75. 82: I i nil of. 8-> 
Port Cm mi , II. 191. l<r> 

'in. i. I. 1 I) 
I. King.l.ihn tak- Ceutl from the 

I. L'l I 

Hi. II. 22 

I'Uel, I. 1.52 

Po//.noli. Hay of, II. 219. 221). L'L'S : town of, 
L'L'S ; allunon of Alexandre Dumas, L'2'.l 

Priam. II. 22 

Prim. Mnnnnient to. at P.aivelona. I. ISlI 

Promontore. Cape, 11. 202 

Propriann. I. SI 

Proserpine, Temple of. at Ilntarfa, II. .53 

Proverb about the baneful influence , I tic- 
Turks. 1 . 27 

Ptolcmais. I. 102 

Ptolemy Philadelphia and the Temple of 
Arsenoe, I. 219 

Pnglia. II. lir, 

I'uig .Mayor. I. 2li9 

Puiita de Africa. The, the Africa 11 I'illar of 
Hercules. I. 19 

Purple of Tyre. I. 100 

Pyramid of Skulls at Djorba, I. 1.5!) 

Fyrgos, II. 190 

Pyrrhusand Southern Italy, II. 102 

Pytheas, I. 47 : statue at Marseilles, ,50 

Pythian games. I. 17-"' 

Quarry of the Cappucini, II. L'OL" 
Queretaro and the Emperor Maximilian. 
II. 2,38 

Kabato, II. 38 

Ragusa, I. 241 ; defences of, 2-54, 25.5 

Railway to Eplit sus. I. 39. 40 ; at Tunis, 1 10 

Hameses. I. 89, 112: and Pelusium, 229 

Rainlii, Bay of, II. 28 

Kamleh, I. 219 

liapallo, Bay of, I. 137 

Kaphael, 1/128 

Uaphuel, St., II. 267 

Ras-el-Ain, I. 100 

Ras-ez-Zebib, I. 141 

Ras Sidi Ali-el-Mekhi. I. 144 

liavenna, Fen-land of, II. .5.5; history, 56: 
unique character, ,57 ; its treasures of 
architecture and art. .">7 ; Piazza Mag- 
giore, 58; Theodoric's Palace and 
Sepulchre, 59 ; the Maiisoleiim. 00 : 
Church of St. A]>olliiiare Nuovo, 02 ; 
Church of St. Vitale. 03 ; tomb of Dante, 
Church of St. Apollinare in Clause, and 
pine forest, 04, GO, 67 ; Church of St. 
Maria in Porto Fuori, 65 

Raymond, Count, and the Castle at Tripoli 
I. 11.5 

Raymond des Tours, I. 67 

Recco. I. 137 

Regnlus, Attilius. I. 1-14 

Renaissance work in the Mausoleum at 
Ravenna, II. 62 

Kenan, and ruins of church at Tyre, I. 107 ; 
and the tomb of Hiram, 109 

Revolution. French, and Venice, II. 243 

Richard the Lion-hearted, I. 93, 94, !()> 
discovery of his identity at Vienna, fl! 

Kichard II. and the first exiieditioii to 
North Africa, I. 150 

Rimini, and the story of Francosca, II. 70 
72; castle of the Malatestas, "2; Pia/zo 
Giuglio Cesare, and the churches. 7:; ; 
River Marecchia. and the Corso d' Au- 
gusta, 74 

Rip Van Winkle anticipated by the Seven 
Sleepers, I. 44 

Riva. II. 207 

Riviera, The, general aspect, II. 265: origin 
of name, 206 ; extent, and climate, 207 
the Ksterel. Agay, Golfe de la Napoule, 
08 ; Ste. Marguerite, and St. Honorat 
209 ; Cannes, 270274 ; Monaco, 274 ; 
Monte Carlo, 275 : Mentone, 270, 278 
Roquebrune, 276, 278 ; Bordighera, and 
San Remo, 279 ; Alassio and Savoiia '>80 

l.'ivn-ia di Lovante. I. 136; II. 206 

Riviera di Ponente. I. 136; 11.207 

Hoeellii loniai. II. !)1 

Rodney, Lord, and the siege of Gibraltar, I. 

Roger II., II. 209 

Hogcrs, Samuel, on Andrea. Doria,, I. p>0 

liogliano. Pasture lands of, I. 71 

Romans. The, their i ule at Smyrna I ->6 
at Mars.-il!,.... 17. 5g; ;lt (;,.,,.,_ U , s . iu 
Ajnca. 1 12; and Illyria. 230; at Pollens-,, 
278; at Xica-a. II. I ; at Al.vdos, 27 ; at 
Malaga, 11(1; in Sardinia, 100; at Trieste 

Ronda. Mountains of. 1. 1 | 

KOI ike. Sic ( ieor_e. and the sir"-,- of (iibral- 

tar, I. 17 
Hoi|uel,rune. II. 27D: <|uaint storv connected 

with. 278 

BolB, The Chevalier, and til" pla"ne at 

Marseilles. I. 00 

Bom of the Kiviera. II. 265 

Kns.ita. I. 21S. L'L'l ; reputed birthplace of 
Ilaroun Al Hasliid. 223 ; English expedi- 
tion of 180", 223; arclia-ological dis- 
coveries, 224 

liosia llay. (iibraltar. I. 12. 10. 19 

lin-sini. Birthplace of, II. 74 

Hostang. I. 67 

Hnudairc. Commandant, and his scheme for 
the submersion of the Sahaia. I. 157. 

RovigiKt. II. 2-'ii) 

RutVo. Cardinal, and Cotrnne. II. 101 

Ruselhe, II. 187 

Ruskin. Professor, on St. Mark's. Venice, 
II. 241. 210 

Sabatai'-Sevi, a pretended Messiah. II. "7 

Sabbioncella, Peninsula of. 1. 211 

Xiirn, ciit'uni. The. at Genoa. I. 133, 134 

Sahel Mountains, The, II. 102 

SalV. I. 229 

Saladin, I. 102 

Salamis, Bay of. I. 170 

Salerno, II. '239 : temples at. 210 

Sulles, De, I. 07 

Sallnst, reference to Vacca, I. 1.51 

Salintm, II. 53 

Salona, Diocletian's ]>lsice of retireniDnt. I. 
247: ruins of old town, and characteristics 
of the new. 252, 253 

Salonica, II. 27 

Salvia Postuma, and the arch at Pola, II. 

Salvian, at St. Honorat, II. 209 

Samos, II. 140 

Samothrace, Deluge of, II. 31 

Samson, and the gates of Gaza. I. 91 

San Pietro, Island of, I. 143 

San Remo, II. 7, 279, 280 

San Roque, I. 19 

Sail Salvador, II. .51 

Sand, Georges, opinion of Minorca. 1. 20S 

Sand dunes, at Jaffa. I. 90 ; at Tyre. 1(10 

Sanguinaire Islands, I. 83 
\Xii/t{ii t'lixit, II. 264 

Santa Croce, Cape, II. 200 

Santa Marine! la, II. 190 

Santa Maura, Castle of, II. 132 

Santa Ponza, I. 202 

Santa Severa, II. 190 

Sapienza, II. 143 

Saracens, at Smyrna, I. 20. 27: at Marseilles. 
58; at Genoa, 119; at Ancona, II. 70; 
In Sardinia, 100; at Civita Ven-hia. iss 

Sarcophagus of Ashmunazar, King of Sidun. 
I. 109; atGirgenti, II. 20-1 

S.u-dinia, View from Bonifacio of, I. S8 ; 
Genoa annexed to. 121; insalubrity, 145: 
neglect by tourists. 110; peculiarities of 
costume, and superstitions of the people, 
14"; variations of population, 148; Cag- 
liari, 149 152; Macomer, and Oristano. 
152 154: the "nuraghe," 155; ancient 
idols, and their destruction ordered by 
Gregory the Great, 157; tunny-tish. 157': 
Isola Puma, and St. Pietro, 157; Asmara 
and S. Antioco. 159 

Sarona, I. 96 

Saronic Gulf, I. 166 

Saros, Gulf of, II. 31 

Sartene, and the Corsican Brothers, I. Nl 

Banana, II. 173, 174 

Sassari, II. 152 

Satnrma, II. 187 

Savona, II. 280 

Savoy, Counts of, and Nice, II. .5 

Slieit'la, I. 155 

Schliemann, Dr., excavations of. at Hassarlik. 

II. 23, 24 

Scilla, and the earthquake of 1783, II. 87 
Scio, Isle of, said to have been the birthplace 

of Homer, I. 37; its liistory. 37 39 : 

slaughter of the people by the Turks. 


Scipio. destruction of Carthago bv. I. 150 
Seoglio Grande. II. 20-, 
Scoglio Mario, II. 3.5 
Si ulai-i. I. 258 
Scylla and Charybdis. II. S7. 191. 



Sebenico, history and chief features, I. 2i:> 
Sebta, or Septeni, derivation of " Ceuta," I. 


Segesta, II. 212 ; temples at, 214 
Selimmto, II. 212 ; ancient temples at, 214 
Senglia, II. 50 

Serapeum, The, at Alexandria, I. 216, 217 
Serapis, Temple of, I. 208 
Seravezza, Marlilu quarries at, and Michael 

Angclo, II. 175 
Serpentine at Spez/.ia, I. 1 38 
Sestos, II. 28 

Seven Sleepers of Ephesus, I. -1 1 
Sfax, I. 157 

Shakespeare, allusion to the Nili>, I. 227 
Shalmaneser, anil the aqueduct at Tyre, I. 


Sharon, Plain of, I. 90 
Sheba, Queen of, and the Micro cntiiio in the 

cathedral of (ienoa, I. 134 
Shelley, last days at Lerk'i, and death, II. 

172, 173 
Shovel, Sir Cloudesley, and the siege of 

Gibraltar, I. 18 
Sicily, appearance from the sea, II. 19") ; 

Messina, 19.), 190 ; Taormina, 196, 197 ; 

Etna, and Aci Reale. 198, 199; Ortygiu. 

200; Syracuse, 201, 202; Girgenti, 203 

20(i; Palermo, 207211 ; San Giuliano, 

211, 212; Selinunto, 212; Monte Pelle- 

grino, 216 
Siculus Diodorus and the earthquake at 

the Dardanelles, I. 32 
Sicyon, Ancient and modern, I. 163 
Sidi Bou Saeed, I. 146 
Sidon, I. 10"> ; a counterpart of Tyre, streets, 

trade, mosques, cemeteries, etc., 109 
Siege of Gibraltar, I. 1518 
Sierra of the Snows, The, I. 14 
Simon the Tanner, House of, I. 9.) 
Simos and Protis, supposed founders of 

Marseilles, I. 46 
Sinigaglia, II. 74 
Sirocco, The, in Dalmatia. I. 23.) 
Slavonians, The, in Smvrna, I. 26 
Slavonic race, The, I. 236 
Smith, Sir Sidney, and Napoleon at Acre, 

I. 102 
Smollett, Tobias, Grave of, II. 179 

Smyrna, Appearance of, and clearness of 
the atmosphere, I. 23 ; various names 
given to, 23 ; people of, and architecture. 
24 ; Jewish and Armenian quarters, and 
the Frank city, 24 ; street nomenclature 
and absence of family names, 25 ; babel 
of tongues, 26; history, 2631 ; the 
Turks of, 29, 30 ; trade, 3032 ; plague 
in, 32 ; cholera in, 34 ; donkeys and their 
drivers, 34, 35 ; camels of, 35 ; beauty of 
the women of, 36 : said to have been 
the birthplace of Homer, 37 ; railways, 
39 42 ; Mount Pagus and the tomb 
of Polycarp, 4j ; gateway to the ea".t, 
45, 68 

Smyrna, Bay of, I. 23 

'' Smyrna, the beloved," I. 23 

Snails as an article of diet, II. 223 

Soldiers at Gibraltar, I. 10 

Soliman, I., II. 28 

Seller, I. 268 ; cleanliness and order, and boot 
and shoe industry, 270 ; toy harbour, 
pirates, and adventure of M. Arago, 

Solomon's Temple, Timlier for, I. 95 

Solta, I. 244 

Sorrento, II. 5, 235 ; and Tasso, 236 

Souk-el-Arbiia, I. 151 

Sovana, II. 187 

Spain, Rock of Calpe. I. 2 : landing of first 
Berber Sheikh, 2; antiquity of the 
Moorish Castle, Gibraltar, 13 ; driven 
from Gibraltar, 16; acquires Ceuta, 21 ; 
and Columbus, 131 : the most Catholic 
country in the world, 190 ; great number 
of holidays, 201 ; Caballero, lady no- 
velist, 203; piquancy of the women, 20") ; 
II. 115 ; unsettled condition of, I. 205 

Spalato, I. 243 ; architectural interest of, 
244, 249 ; church of, 248, 251 

Spalmadore, I. 244 

Spanish, The, at Gibraltar, I. 10 

Spanish Succession, War of the, I. 18 

Spelunca, The, Corsica, I. 81 

Spezzia, Scenery around, I. 117 ; arsenal of, 
123 ; exquisite scenery and remarkable 
situation, 138; oranges at, 139; villages 
around. 141 ; harbour and men-of-war, 
141; Bay of, II. 172 

Stanfield's painting of Vico, II. 235 
Statuary, English, its inferior character. 

I. If 
Stone, Egyptian, witli inscription, at Roscttti. 

I. 224 

Stopford, Admiral, at Acre, I. 102 
Strabo, I. 215 

Street nomenclature at Smyrna, I. 25 
Stromboli, II. 87, 211 
Strophades, The, II. 143 
Suadieh, I. 94 

Suez Canal, I. 23, 31, 41,42,47,08; con- 
struction by M. de Lesseps, a divam 

realised, 230 

Sulla sacks Rimini, II. 71 
Susa, History of, I. 152 
Sybaris, II. 92 
Syracuse, II. 198 ; interest aiul beauty of, 

Syrian Coast, Ga/.a, I. 90, 91 ; Askelon, 92 ; 

Jaffa, 95 ; Caesarea, 96, 97 ; Dor and 

Carmel, 98 ; Haifa, 100 ; Acre. 101 ; 

Ras-en-Nakurahand R:\s-eI-Abiad. 103; 

Tyre, 106; Sidon, 109; Beirut, 110; 

Jumeh and Gebal, 113; Batiiin, 114; 

Tripoli, 115 
Syrians in Smyrna, I. 24 

Tabarca, Island of, I. 143 

Taggia, II. 279 

Tagliamento, Delta of the, II. 25:! 

Talamone, II. 186 

"Talayots," The. of Minorca, 1.275,276, 

278, 279 

Talion Keui, II. 20 
Talismans, \vit!i names of the Stiven Sleei>ers, 


Tailored, I. 101 
Tangier, Bay of, I. 4 ; distant view and 

features of the town of, 6 ; expedition of 

Edward, soil of King John of Portugal, 

against, 20 
Tanis, Ruins of (Zoan of the Old Testament), 

I. 229 

Taonnina, II. 195; elevation of. 196 ; beauti- 
ful prospect and ruins of Greek theatre, 


Taranto II. 99 ; and Pyrrhus, 102, 103 
larascon, 1. 47 
Tarif Ibn Malek, first Barber sheikh who 

landed in Spain, I. 2 
Tarifa, The Pharos of, I. 2 ; the arms, town, 

and history of, 3 
Tarquinii, Ruins of, II. 187 
Tasso and Sorrento, II. 236 
Tchardak, II. 29 
Tejada, Sierra, II. 120 
Tell Kadi, Aqueduct at, I. 1(16 
Tenedos, Island of, II. 19, 20; seat of the 

worship of the Smynthian Apollo, 21 ; 

its various possessors, 21 
Teneriffe, II. 195 
Tergeste, II. 255, 256 
Termini, II. 207 
Termoli, II. 78 

Term/, The, of Malaga, II. 106 
Tete de Chien, II. 275 
Teuta, Queen, and the murdorof the Roman 

ambassador at Lissa, I. 245 
Thackeray and tauilladaUte, I. 52 
Theocritus' allusion to Zante. II. 143 
Theodore, St., statue at Venice, II. 247 
Theodoric the Great and Ravenna, II. 58, 


Thiers, M., I. 67 

Thucydides' allusions to Corfu, II. 124 
Tiber, The, II. 191 

Timour the Tartar besieges Smyrna, I. 27 
Tintoret, I. 129 
Tireh, I. 43 
Titian, I. 129 

Torcello, the ancient Altinum, II. 251 
Torre dell' Annunziati, Manufacture of 

macaroni at. II. 235 
Torres, Porto, II. 157 
Touzli Boumon, I. 42 
Trade of Smyrna, I. 2931 
Trajan, and North Africa, I. 142 ; his 

aqueduct at Carthage, 150 : arch at An- 

cona, II. 77 ; founder of Civita Vecchia, 


Tramontana, The, of the Riviera, II. 106 
Trani, II. 79 
Trapani, II. 211 
Trail, I. 246 
Trevelez, II. 121 

Trieste, I. 68, 233 ; eimtrasted with VnuV.-. 
II. 253 ; streets, and church of St. An- 
tonio, 254; cathedral. 251. 255; early 
history, 255 ; population and present 
position, 256; harbour, and surrounding 
scenery, 257; Castlt- of Miramar. and 
Istrian coast. 25s 

Trinacria, II. 211 

Tripoli, the "maritime Damasn . ' liousi . 
tramways, and castle, I. 115 

"Tristram Shandy," and British merchants 
in Turkey, I. 31 

Triton, Lake of, I. 160 

Troad, The, II. 21 

Troy, Cape, II. 21 ; Plain of, 23 

Tunis, I. 47 : original inhabitants, and 
various possessors, 142; island of Tabarca, 
the K/wiiHiir, and Bizerta, 143; Porto 
Farina, Ras-ez-Zebib, and Blake's attack, 
144; Uticaand the suicide of Cato, site 
of Carthage, the Golettu, and the victory 
of Charles V., 140; antiquity. Bab-cl- 
Bahr, bazaars, Town Palace, and mosques, 
147; architecture, and costume of the 
people, 148 ; the women, walks around, 
and Palace of the Bardo, 149; remains 
of Carthage, approach by railway, and 
places of interest, 150; Souk-el-Arbija, 
Beja, and Oiled Zergila, 151 ; Kelebia, 
Nebuel. Susa, 152; Keroua-n, 153; mosque 
of Sidi Okltt, 154 ; Sbeitla, and amphi- 
theatre of El-Djem, 155 ; Monastir, and 
the first expedition to North Africa, 156 ; 
Sfax. Gabes, the daring scheme of Ron- 
daire, and the island of Djerba, 157, 159; 
the lofits, and Pyramid of Skulls, 159; 
Lake of Triton, Z\irzis, and peninsula of 
Cyrene, 160 

Tunny fish in Sardinia, II. 157 

Turbali, I. 43 

Turbia, The. I. 51 

Turks, at Gibraltar, I. 9 ; at Smyrna, 24. 
2628 ; extortions of Pashas, 27 : at 
Scio, 37, 38 

Tuscan coast (xf? Lerici, Sarzana, Carrara, 
Pisa, Leglvorn, Elba, Civita Vecchia, 

Twin Brothers, Mountain of the, I. 23 

Tyre, I. 105 ; purple of, 106 ; ruins of 
cathedral, burial-place of Origen, Crusa- 
ders' walls, and the town of to-day, 107; 
country around, 108 

University of Barcelona, I. 195; of Valletta, 

II. 48; of Messina, 195 
Urban V.. Pope, and the church of St. 

Victor. Marseilles, I. 62 
Utica, and the suicide of Cato, I. 146 : II. 


Valdoniello, Forest of, I. 75, 78, 79 

Valeutinian. II. 00 

Valldemosa, verdure, balmy air, and remains 
of Carthusian Monastery, I. 266; moun- 
tains of, 267 

Valletta, II. 33 : fortress, buildings, popula- 
tion, and abundance of labour, 39 ; the 
Port, 40 ; military station, and peculiar 
construction, 41 ; Strada Reale, 42 ; the 
people, and public buildings, 43, 44 ; the 
Knights, and various sieges, 46 ; military 
hospital, 47 ; the University and the 
prison, 48 ; visit of Bonaparte, and the 
Strada Mezzodi, 49 ; suburbs, 50 ; Nota- 
bile and Hainrun, 51 ; popularity of St. 
Paul, 53 ; cathedrals, 53, 54 

Vanderdussen, Rear-Admiral, and the siege 
of Gibraltar, I. 18 

Vasilika, I. 163 

Vasina, I. 73 

Vathy, II. 136 

Vauban, Fortifications of, at Cannes, II. 

Vegetation at Marseilles, I. 54 

Veu, II. 187 

Velebich Mountains, II. 262 

Venice, I. 47, 68: contrasted with Genoa, 
117; rival of Genoa, 119; the palazzi of , 
123, 124 ; II. 69; a town unequalled in 
Europe, and general aspect, 241 ; history, 
242 ; formation and shape, 243 ; view of 
San Marco from the Piazza, 243 246 ; 
date of erection, restoration, and interior 
of St. Mark's, 246 ; view from the Molo, 


Till-: PICTUBESQl '/; MKIrtTElUi. \ NEA .V. 

aiu) 111.' ti' '. .HIT;'!, 

2-Vi : Hands si,, lt.-nii;_' ii I'miu tin sea, 
J.Hi 2.VJ 

1 1 . 278 

Vi-mis. Temple nf. nthus. I. K'.'.i; 

shrine MI Kiy\. II. 212 

Vi-MU- Xi-)>h\ I llr-. I . '.'I'.' 

it, II. 2(12 
m, [.117: !'. i' i; >. -'in 

'. C.I >||C I], 

I, 17'i 

Viiti.r. Marshal. il : -'-rsd of his armv l>v 

Cnl.,11,-1 (iMi^li :i> Tariia. I :; 
Villa i. I. 17: tn-at> n!'. 1 1 . .'> ; jiic- 

tlll, :. I.I 

Viriiil. his pi-aim' ot' the harlxmrs (if Italy. 
I. _':;; n-l'i-n-iici to ihi> ciinniiii; nt' 

I lall-. I IS ; Jilarr nt' clratll. II. S! I ; 

ami the Kly-ian Ki.-lil>. j:;n 
Vi>ip,ths. Th,-. 1 
Vittiiri..>a. II. M 

Vi//av. p i. 1 . 7 (| 

mo, ii. -J1I 

W.i.l,.. Marslial. I. 11 

Wallachians. Tin-. I. 'l-'x'i 

\\':ll ot' the SjKIUiMl Sllrct'^sii'll, I. IS 

\ViMli-hn]', (irni-i-al. at If .i>rita, 1. L'-'-l 

Well i,f r.'iivnc. I. ICil 

\Velliiif:tiin. Miiniiineiit at ( iiliraltar ti>, I. 

Whittaker. Cajitain. and fie sie^-e nf (!lli- 
l-altar. I. IS 

William of Tyre, I. 107 

\\Ynien nf Smyrna. I. L'l. :i(i : veiled. 33; of 
t'ul-sica. 7-, 7^i, 7li : lieauty of. at Genoa, 
118; restrictions at the Cathedral nl Qe- 
linn ajtainst. I:>L': of S]iii, L'O."). L'lil : ..I' 
Majorca. 263: of Nice. II. :>: of Catiin- 
zaro, 1)8, !)!) : their attractiTenenat Malaga, 
11."': <if's. _-J(): LI' Ca].ri. i;:;-.' 

i'ixi's. I. Iti: and the 


'v nl Alivdn- 

Y.-ni Shi-liir. II. -22 
Yi-nikr-.i. Vill-i.ue nf. II. 22 
Y'linif.'. Dr.. ami the Ejjyiitian stone at 
!. i-tta, I. 221 

/aiilia. Bridjjc of, I. 81 

Xante. Urn ill y and i'ert ility of. II. I i:i 

Xara. ..i- .lailera. its history, I. 238, 230; 
FortificatiolM and .streets' 2311: (M^1l^^rx 
nf the [K'uple. ami market l.lnei-. "Ill- 
churches. 211, 212 

Xarxis. I. ICO 

Xeniln-a. Island of. I. Ml 

Xemliretta. Island of, I. 1 ! I 

Zorko, II. US 

Zo, I. 80 

D The picturesque Mediterranean